WHERE  THE 
SHAMROCK  GROWS 


I 

The  sky  is  soft  above  her,  and  her  sod  is  green  below 

it; 
Her  heart  beats  warm  for  friendship,  but  is  steel 

against  her  foes ; 
She's  the  mother  of  the  soldier,  she's  the  cradle  of  the 

poet; 

She's    the    land    of    song    and    legend    where    the 
Shamrock  grows. 


To    M.  A.  J. 


WHERE  THE 
SHAMROCK     GROWS 

The  Fortunes  and  Misfortunes 
of  an  Irish  Family 


By 

GEORGE   H.   JESSOP 

AUTHOR  OF 

"My  Lady  Molly,"  "Shamus  O'Brien," 
etc,,  etc.,  etc. 


THE  BAKER  &  TAYLOR  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK- 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK 
GROWS 

CHAPTER    I. 
AN  IRISH  AMAZON. 

"  THAT  horse  is  running  away,"  exclaimed 
Gerald  Delaney,  standing  up  on  his  side  of  the 
jaunting  car  and  shading  his  eyes  as  he  gazed 
down  the  road. 

"And  there's  a  lady  on  his  back,"  cried  Jack 
Whalen,  imitating  his  companion's  action,  while 
the  driver  reined  in  his  sorry  steed,  and  the 
thunder  of  galloping  hoofs  on  the  hard  macadam 
sounded  louder  and  closer. 

11  Pull  the  car  across  the  road,"  commanded 
Gerald.  "  That  will  stop  him." 

"Do  ye  want  me  to  turn  him  down  the 
boreen,"  remonstrated  the  jarvey.  "  It's  into 
the  river  he'd  go  then,  an'  maybe  drown  the 
lady." 

There  was  reason  in  this.  A  narrow  lane 
ran  at  right  angles  from  the  high  road  down 
to  the  river  bank,  and  it  seemed  likely  that 
the  runaway,  finding  an  obstacle  in  his  path, 
might  take  the  course  old  Moriarty  indicated. 

"Do  something  then,  confound  you,"  cried 


206103? 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

G'erald,  and  Moriarty  drew  his  car  with 
elaborate  care  to  one  side  and  then  looked  back 
at  the  rapidly  approaching  horse. 

"  Glory  be,  it's  Miss  Fetherstone,"  he  ex- 
claimed,  "an*  that  mad  divil  of  a  chestnut  is 
in  under  her." 

They  were  close  at  hand  by  this  time — the 
wildly  galloping  horse,  blinded  by  rage  or 
terror,  and  the  slender,  erect  figure  of  the  rider. 
She  sat  bravely,  and  though  the  hands  that 
grasped  the  reins  were  powerless  to  control  or 
guide  the  great  hunter,  there  was  no  white 
signal  of  distress  on  her  cheeks,  no  flinching 
in  her  attitude. 

Gerald  seized  a  rug  from  the  car,  and  run- 
ning forward  almost  under  the  trampling  feet, 
he  spread  it  in  the  horse's  face.  It  swerved 
and  half  turned,  almost  unseating  its  rider. 
Then  Gerald  flung  the  rug  over  its  head,  hoping 
to  blindfold  the  animal. 

He  was  partially  successful.  The  rug  settled 
over  the  ears  and  hung  a  moment  over  the 
muzzle.  With  an  angry  toss  the  horse  flung 
it  aside  and  then,  facing  round  as  if  to  leap 
the  tall  quick  set  hedge  at  the  road  side,  it 
reared  almost  erect,  fighting  the  air  with  its 
forefeet. 

Gerald  grasped  for  the  bridle  and  flung  all 
his  weight  on  one  side  with  the  object  of  bring- 
ing the  animal  down.  In  this  he  succeeded 
beyond  his  expectation.  There  was  a  moment's 
struggle,  a  grinding  and  slipping  of  trampling 
hoofs,  and  all  three,  horse,  rider,  and  would-be 
rescuer,  came  to  the  ground  together. 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

Miss  Fetherstone  was  on  her  feet  first.  The 
chestnut  lay  on  its  side,  Jack  Whalen,  who  had 
sprung  to  the  rescue  scarce  a  second  later  than 
his  friend,  securely  seated  on  its  head.  Gerald 
scrambled  up  and  stood  nursing  his  arm  which 
felt  as  if  it  had  been  wrenched  from  the  socket. 
The  whole  episode  had  been  contained  in  the 
space  of  a  minute,  and  now  the  sound  of  hoofs, 
pounding  the  hard  road  and  drawing  moment- 
arily nearer,  announced  that  the  lady's  groom 
was  hastening  to  the  assistance  of  his  mistress. 

Kate  Fetherstone  and  Gerald  Delaney,  pant- 
ing and  mud-bespattered,  stood  facing  each 
other,  and  the  latter  spared  a  thought  from  his 
tingling  arm,  to  own  to  himself  he  had  seldom 
looked  on  as  handsome  a  woman.  Her  hat 
was  somewhat  awry,  and  her  hair,  shaken  loose 
from  its  fastenings,  streamed  down  to  her  waist 
and  below  it,  a  magnificent  mantle,  deep  tawny 
red,  shot  with  gold  as  it  caught  the  level  rays 
of  the  westering  November  sun.  She  was 
flushed  with  her  adventurous  ride,  and  as  she 
stood,  her  bosom  rising  and  falling  as  she 
caught  her  breath,  she  made  as  fair  a  picture  as 
one  might  hope  to  view  whether  in  London 
drawing  room  or  on  Irish  road  side. 

So  thought  Gerald  as  he  stood  and  allowed 
his  eyes  their  will  of  her,  for  hers  were  on  her 
fallen  horse.  Then  he  spoke,  raising  his  hat 
with  as  much  grace  as  his  stiffening  shoulder 
would  permit. 

11  You  are  not  hurt,  I  hope?  " 

He  realised  that  her  eyes  were  brown  as  they 
met  his — or  were  they  hazel? 

7 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  she  answered,  "  but  that 
was  a  terribly  risky  thing  you  did — hanging 
on  to  a  horse's  bridle  just  as  he  was  rising  for 
a  leap.  You  might  have  made  him  shake  him- 
self," 

Gerald,  who  had  expected  compliments  and 
thanks,  was  taken  aback.  "  I  was  concerned 
for  your  safety,  not  that  of  the  horse,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  thank  you.  Nothing  ever  hurts  me," 
she  replied,  and  then  turned  to  the  smart  groom 
who  had  just  ridden  up  and  dismounted.  "  Is 
he  any  the  worse,  Nolan?  " 

"Are  ye  any  the  worse  yerself,  Miss?"  the 
man  cried.  "Glory  be!  The  sight  left  me 
eyes  when  I  seen  him  bolt.  If  he'd  struck  the 
parapet  of  the  bridge  or  wheeled  down  the 
boreen— " 

"He  did  neither,"  she  interrupted  impati- 
ently. "  See  to  Red  Rover  will  you,  and  never 
mind  me." 

Nolan  bent  over  the  prostrate  horse  and  seized 
the  rein. 

"Stand  clear,  sir,  av'  ye  plaze,"  he  said, 
and,  Jack  Whalen  relieving  the  animal  of  his 
weight,  Red  Rover  scrambled  to  his  feet  and 
stood  quiet  with  lowered  head  and  heaving 
flanks.  The  fierce  spirit  had  exhausted  itself 
temporarily  at  least. 

Nolan  viewed  him  critically. 

"  The  crutch  of  the  saddle's  broke  an'  one 
girth  is  burst,"  he  remarked.  Then  he  led  the 
panting  horse  a  step  or  two  forward  and  a  cry 
of  consternation  went  up  from  Miss  Fetherstone. 

"He's  dead  lame,"  she  exclaimed,  and  cast 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

a  reproachful  look  at  Gerald  which  seemed  to 
say  "  Now  see  what  you've  done." 

Nolan  stooped  and  felt  the  leg  from  knee  to 
fetlock  joint. 

"  It's  only  a  bit  of  a  strain,  I  think,"  he 
said.  "  Leastways  there's  nothing  broke. 
Ye're  well  out  of  it  Miss,  the  pair  o'  ye.  A 
few  days'  rest  an'  a  drop  of  Elliman,  an'  he'll 
be  able  an'  willin'  to  break  yer  neck  again, 
plaze  God." 

"  And  if  you  have  any  of  that  Elliman  to 
spare  I'll  borrow  some  to  rub  on  my  shoulder." 

Gerald  was  unable  to  resist  the  temptation 
thus  to  call  attention  to  his  own  services.  That 
so  much  interest  should  be  lavished  on  a  beast 
which  had  been  lamed  by  its  own  misbehaviour, 
while  no  one  paid  the  smallest  attention  to  the 
real  hero  of  the  occasion,  seemed  to  him  flag- 
rantly unjust.  His  shoulder  had  ceased  to  pain, 
but  that  was  no  reason  why  he  should  be 
defrauded  of  his  due. 

Miss  Fetherstone  turned  quickly. 

"Are  you  hurt?  I  am  so  sorry.  I  didn't 
know.  Your  shoulder,  is  it?  Do  you  think 
you  could  get  your  coat  off?  We  are  all  sur- 
geons, more  or  less,  in  these  parts  when  it 
comes  to  accidents  in  the  hunting  field." 

There  was  real  sympathy  in  her  voice,  and 
Gerald  felt  a  little  ashamed  of  himself. 

"  It's  nothing  to  signify,"  he  answered 
lightly.  "  I  was  only  joking  about  the  Elliman. 
My  arm  was  a  bit  wrenched,  but  it's  all  right 
now,"  and  he  swung  it,  albeit  somewhat  gin- 
gerly, in  proof. 

9 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

11  You  came  off  very  well,"  the  lady  answered, 
and  he  shifted  uneasily  under  the  steady  regard 
of  the  brown  eyes.  *'  I  ought  to  thank  you 
very  much,  for  of  course  you  acted  with  the 
best  intentions,  even  if  you  did  lame  Red  Rover. 
But  never  do  such  a  thing  again.  It's  too 
much  to  expect  of  any  horse  to  rise  to  a  leap 
with  ten  or  twelve  stone  hanging  on  to  the  bit." 

"  But  I  didn't  expect  or  want  him  to  leap," 
protested  Gerald,  indignantly.  "  I  could  see 
the  brute  was  running  away,  and  I  simply  tried 
to  stop  him." 

"Which  you  did  most  effectually,"  interrup- 
ted Kate;  "you've  stopped  him  for  a  week  or 
more,  right  in  the  middle  of  the  hunting 
season."  She  was  trying,  not  very  success- 
fully, to  arrange  her  hair,  and  Gerald's  indig- 
nant glance  was  lost  upon  her.  "  Oh  dear," 
she  continued.  "  What  am  I  to  do  with  this 
unruly  wig  of  mine.  I  must  have  strewn  every 
foot  of  the  road  from  this  to  Ballymulvey  with 
hairpins.  What  can't  be  cured  must  be  en- 
dured," and  with  a  shake  of  the  head  she 
suffered  the  glorious  tresses  to  flow  free  again. 
"  A  pretty  guy  I'll  look  when  I  get  home." 

Gerald  knew  Kate  Fetherstone  by  name  per- 
fectly well,  and  he  had  little  doubt  she  would 
be  equally  familiar  with  his,  but  the  manner 
in  which  she  had  received  his  bit  of  knight 
errantry  had  not  pleased  him,  and  he  was  in 
no  haste  to  disclose  his  identity.  This  was  his 
first  visit  to  his  boyhood's  home  since  he  had 
left  it  some  eighteen  years  before,  and  at  that 
time  Miss  Fetherstone  had  no  doubt  been  at 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS  ^ 

school.  At  any  rate,  she  had  not  then  adorned 
the  neighbourhood  of  Liscarrick.  So  he  simply 
raised  his  hat,  expressed,  with  the  air  of  a  casual 
stranger,  his  pleasure  that  she  had  escaped  un- 
hurt, and  prepared  to  remount  Moriarty's  car 
on  which  Jack  Whalen  had  already  seated  him- 
self. 

Miss  Fetherstone  perfunctorily  acknowledged 
the  salutation  and  then,  turning  to  the  groom, 
ordered  him  to  shift  the  side-saddle  to  his  own 
horse,  and  to  lead  Red  Rover  slowly  and  care- 
fully home. 

"But  sure  the  crutch  is  broke,  Miss," 
remonstrated  Nolan,  "an'  the  flap  is  split  an' 
the  stirrup  twisted,  an*  the  girth  burst.  Ye 
could  no  more  sit  on  that  saddle  than  ye  could 
on  a  cracked  walnut." 

"So  I'll  have  to  walk  home  five  miles," 
grumbled  the  lady.  "  Pleasant,  in  a  habit  and 
riding  boots  with  my  hair  all  about  my  ears." 

Gerald  could  not  avoid  overhearing,  and  his 
chivalry,  albeit  hitherto  so  coldly  received, 
flamed  up  afresh.  He  was  off  the  car  in  a 
moment. 

"  If  you  would  care  to  avail  yourself  of  our 
jarvey  it  is  very  much  at  your  service.  We  are 
close  to  our  destination." 

"  You  are  really  very  kind,"  responded  Kate, 
receiving  this  attention  with  far  more  warmth 
than  she  had  shown  when  it  was  a  mere  ques- 
tion of  saving  her  life.  "  It's  more  than  good 
of  you,  but — what  will  you  do?  You  have 
luggage?  What's  to  become  of  it?" 

"  It  can  stay  where  it  is.  Moriarty  will  bring 
n 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

it  to  Liscarrick  when  you  have  done  with  him." 

"Are  you  going  to  Liscarrick?"  she  cried 
with  unmistakeable  interest.  "  Are  you,  I 
believe  you  must  be— Uncle  Gerald." 

"  From  the  point  of  view  of  Bob  and  Molly 
that  is  my  style  and  title,"  answered  Gerald 
smiling. 

"  I  have  heard  so  much  of  you,"  she  cried 
eagerly.  "  Molly  is  my  very  greatest  friend. 
I  am  Miss  Fetherstone,  you  know,  of  the  Priory. 
You'll  have  heard  of  me?" 

"Constantly,"  he  answered.  "Molly's 
letters  are  full  of  you." 

"  What  an  extraordinary  meeting,"  she  ex- 
claimed. "  Fancy  our  coming  across  each  other 
in  this  unexpected  way  and  you  throwing  Red 
Rover  down.  Have  you  ever  done  that  sort  of 
thing  in  California?  " 

She  did  not  wait  for  an  answer,  but  ran  on  . 

"  Did  they  expect  you?  I  saw  Mrs.  Delaney 
only  yesterday,  and  she  said  nothing  about  your 
coming." 

"  They  know  I  am  in  Europe,"  answered 
Gerald.  "  Indeed,  I've  been  in  London  for  ten 

days — I  and "  he  looked  round  for  his 

friend,  meaning  to  introduce  him,  but  Whalen 
was  on  the  other  side  of  the  car  and  he  could 
not  catch  his  eye.  "  No,  I  told  them  not  to 
expect  me  till  they  see  me.  But  I'm  home  at 
last,"  he  ended  with  a  little  laugh.  "I  left 
the  dear  old  place  at  twenty  and  I'm  going 
back  to  look  at  it  with  the  eyes  of  eight  and 
thirty." 

"And  I'm  detaining  you,"  said  Kate,  "  It's 

12 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

bad  enough  to   take    up    your   jarvey   without 
taking  up  your  time." 

"We're  just  at  the  gate,"  Gerald  answered 
as  he  seated  her  on  the  car  and  tucked  his  rug 
under  her  feet.  "  You're  quite  sure  you're  not 
hurt  or — or  frightened?" 

She  smiled  brightly  in  reply.  "You  must 
be  used  to  very  timid  people  in  California.  Tell 
Molly  I'm  coming  back  to  tea  just  as  soon  as  I 
can  get  out  of  this  dirty  tattered  habit.  I'll 
send  Moriarty  home  and  drive  over  myself  with 
your  traps." 

She  turned  to  the  driver.  "  To  the  Priory, 
Moriarty,"  she  commanded,  "and  do  try  to 
rise  a  trot  or  we'll  be  all  day  on  the  road." 

Gerald  stood  gazing  after  the  receding  car 
till  he  was  roused  by  Jack  Whalen's  voice. 

"  Well,  we've  got  to  foot  it,  it  appears.  You 
know  the  way,  I  suppose?  " 

"Blindfold!"  the  otheY  replied.  "It's  no 
distance  anyhow."  Then,  as  they  walked,  he 
continued : 

"  Why  did  you  keep  in  the  background  so? 
You're  not  usually  so  bashful.  I  wanted  to 
introduce  you." 

"  I  didn't  care  to  spoil  sport,"  Jack  answered. 
"  I  saw  the  fair  equestrienne  had  made  an  im- 
pression. As  for  the  introduction  I'll  attend 
to  that  myself.  She's  coming  to  tea,  and  I  bet 
you  I  call  her  '  Kate '  to  her  face  at  our  first 
meeting." 

"Kate,"   repeated  Gerald  musingly.      "So 
it   is.     I    had   forgotten    her   name  was   Kate. 
How  came  you  to  know  it?  " 
13 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"  Because  we're  first  cousins,  my  boy,  though 
we  never  met  in  our  lives  before."  Then, 
answering  the  other's  look  of  astonishment, 
Jack  continued:  "Yes,  old  Mike  Whalen,  dis- 
tiller of  the  famous  Shamrock  blend  of  whisky, 
was  grandfather  to  both  of  us,  though  I'm  a 
working  journalist  in  'Frisco  and  she's  a 
Princess,  or  something  like  it  in  Ireland.  I'll 
tell  you  the  whole  story  some  time.  Is  this 
Liscarrick?  What  a  stunning  entrance!" 

"Yes,"  replied  Gerald,  somewhat  sadly. 
"  The  remains  of  vanished  splendour,"  and  he 
led  the  way  up  the  broad  avenue  whose  every 
tree  was  linked  in  his  mind  with  some  boyish 
memory. 


CHAPTER   II. 
GERALD  DELANEY'S  HOME-COMING. 

MOLLY  Delaney  sat  in  the  window  of  the 
library  at  Liscarrick  catching  the  last  of  the 
fading  light  on  a  tea  cloth,  whose  many  worn 
places  she  was  doing  her  best  to  darn.  She  was 
singing  softly  to  herself  as  she  wrought,  for 
though  her  life  had  little  to  brighten  it,  the 
spirits  of  an  Irish  girl  of  twenty  are  not  easily 
damped,  and  the  shadow  of  dreams  half  dreamed 
were  lurking  in  the  depths  of  her  soft  blue  eyes. 
Dreams  never  to  be  realised,  perhaps,  for  who 
ever  came  to  Liscarrick  save  duns,  while  all 
the  sordid  cares  of  contrivance  and  management 
fell,  as  they  had  fallen  before  she  had  left  the 
schoolroom,  on  those  young  shoulders. 

"  Well  nurse,  what  is  it  now  ?  "  she  exclaimed, 
looking  up  from  her  work  as  an  old  woman 
entered.  This  was  Mrs.  Kilkelly  who  had 
nursed  Molly  and  her  brother,  and  their  father 
before  them,  and  who,  with  a  couple  of  country 
wenches  in  training  as  maid  servants,  and  a 
superannuated  butler,  constituted  the  sole 
domestic  staff  of  the  Delaneys. 

"  Sorra  bit  of  good  at  all  at  all  can  I  get  out 
of  Judy,  Miss  Molly,"  the  old  woman  grumbled. 
•"  She  has  me  destroyed  entirely  listening  to 
her,  so  I  just  gave  her  a  fig  to  put  to  her  jaw 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

and  towld  her  to. lie  down  out  o'  that  an  lave 
me  way." 

"  Good  gracious!  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me 
she  has  toothache  again,"  exclaimed  Molly,  still 
stitching  industriously. 

"  Agen,  is  it?    Sure  is  she  ever  without  it?  " 

"  I  hope  so  for  her  own  sake,"  answered 
Molly  laughing.  "But  it's  really  terribly  in- 
convenient— to-day  of  all  days.  Of  course,  I'm 
sorry  for  the  girl's  toothache,  and  all  that,  but 
the  hounds  meet  at  Tullymaine  to-day,  and 
Bob's  safe  to  bring  some  of  them  in  to  tea." 

"  To-day,  is  it?  "  shrieked  Mrs.  Kilkelly,  quite 
understanding  that  it  was  not  some  of  the 
hounds  but  some  of  the  hunters  whose  company 
might  be  expected.  "To-day,  is  it?  Well, 
I've  med  a  nice  hot  cake,  an'  I'll  bring  in  tay 
meself,  wid  the  help  of  Larry." 

"  Nurse,  you're  a  brick,"  cried  Molly. 
"  We'll  be  all  right,  and  I  don't  suppose  there'll 
be  more  than  two  or  three  extra — maybe  none 
at  all." 

"Maybe  not,  Miss;  sure  God's  good,' 
assented  Mrs.  Kilkelly  as  she  turned  to  go.  She 
was  a  bulky  woman,  and  moved  slowly.  As 
she  reached  the  door  she  stopped.  "  Musha, 
but  I  was  forgetting  the  very  thing  I  kem  for. 
Here's  yer  pound,  Miss — leastways,  what's  left 
of  it.  Ah,  many's  the  time  I've  said — spend  a 
penny  out  of  a  sovereign,  an'  it'll  never  be  a 
sovereign  agen." 

"Couldn't  you  get  any  eggs  at  all?"  in- 
quired Molly  anxiously. 

';<JOnIy   a   few,   miss.       The   hens   take   no 
16 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

interest  at  all  in  anything  in  Advent.  A  body 
would  think  it  was  Christians  they  were.  Billy 
Paddy  come  to  the  dure  an'  I  tuk  what  he  had." 

The  girl  told  over  her  change  with  a  length- 
ening face. 

"Sixteen  and  tuppence!  Three  and  ten  for 
eggs.  There,  put  it  on  the  mantel'  piece,  nurse, 
and  here's  your  tea  cloth.  It's  the  best  I  can  do 
with  it." 

As  Molly  rose,  her  chair  subsided  sharply  and 
unexpectedly  to  one  side,  and  it  needed  an  active 
spring,  which  she  emphasised  with  a  little 
scream,  to  save  her  from  falling.  She  looked 
ruefully  down  at  the  chair,  which  was  reposing 
in  a  drunken  attitude  on  three  legs  of  normal 
length  and  one  considerably  shorter. 

"Bother  take  this  chair,"  she  cried  impa- 
tiently, then,  stooping  to  inspect  the  cause  of 
the  upset,  continued:  "A  cork!  Well,  what 
next?  Fancy  putting  a  cork  to  prop  the  short 
leg.  Where's  that  boot  heel?" 

"  Oh,  the  dear  Lord  knows.  Judy  done  out 
the  room  this  morning,  and  she's  herself," 
lamented  Mrs.  Kilkelly,  as  she  slowly  and  labor- 
iously got  down  on  her  knees  and  searched  under 
table  and  sofa  for  the  missing  makeshift.  Molly 
joined  in  the  quest,  and  as  she  moved  chairs 
and  lifted  rugs  the  condition  of  some  of  the 
furniture  moved  her  to  inquire : 

"Did  this  leg  ever  have  a  castor  like  the 
other  three?  " 

"  Ah,  that  was  afore  your  time,  Miss  Molly," 
panted  Mrs.  Kilkelly.  "Your  Uncle,  Master 
Gerald,  tuk  that  castor  to  make  a  wheel  for  his 
17 


.WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

little  cannon,   an'   sorra  one  has  ever  seen   it 
since." 

"Then,  considering  how  rich   uncle   Gerald 
is,  I  wouldn't  thank  him  to  give  us  a  new  chair." 

This  fiction  of  Gerald's  wealth  was  a  very 
vivid  reality  to  the  young  Delaneys,  who  had 
spoken  so  long  and  so  often  of  their  rich  uncle 
in  California  that  it  had  come  to  be  accepted 
in  the  neighbourhood  as  a  well  established  fact. 
Indeed,  to  most  people,  it  seemed  the  most 
natural  thing  in  the  world.  A  young  man  had 
gone  out  to  America  to  make  his  fortune  and 
had  made  it.  The  marvel  would  have  been  had 
he  done  otherwise.  Many  a  young  fellow  had 
left  Drine,  setting  his  face  westward,  and  had 
achieved  what  passed,  in  this  unenlightened 
and  poverty-stricken  district,  for  fame  and  for- 
tune. All  Americans  were  rich.  This  was  an 
axiom  which  no  one  doubted.  Everyone  who 
went  to  America  grew  rich  in  time.  Plenty  of 
instances  could  be  quoted.  Those  who  failed 
sank  out  of  sight  and  were  never  heard  of.  So 
nurse  accepted  Molly's  reference  to  Gerald's 
wealth  without  cavil  or  question. 

"  A  new  chair,  miss!  It's  a  new  set  of  furni- 
ture he'd  be  afther  sending  if  he  thought  it 
would  plaze  ye.  A  freer  handed  young  gentle- 
man than  Master  Gerald  never  scattered  goold 
and  silver." 

"A  whole  new  set!  Can  such  things  be?" 
mused  Molly  wistfully,  as  she  disposed  a  sofa 
cushion  so  as  to  conceal  a  wofully  worn  patch 
in  the  saving  cover.  "  Was  this  furniture  ever 
new?" 

18 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"  Glory  be — here's  the  boot  heel !  "  cried  Mrs. 
Kilkelly  exultantly.  "  The  untidy  sthreel,  to 
go  an'  stick  it  in  under  the  ottoman  like  that." 
She  proceeded  to  adjust  the  time  honoured  prop 
under  the  leg  of  the  chair,  to  which  it  gave 
just  the  requisite  height  and  stability,  and  then 
turned  to  resume  her  conversation  with  Molly. 
"  I  niver  mind  the  day  when  this  was  what  ye'd 
call  all  out  new,"  she  said,  embracing  the  con- 
tents of  the  room  with  a  comprehensive  gesture ; 
"  It  was  better  in  ways — like  that  castor,  but  I 
niver  mind  its  being  so  good  that  there  wasn't 
a  chance  for  cleverness  and  contrivance." 

"Cleverness  and  contrivance!"  repeated 
Molly.  "That's  what  we  live  on  here!  I 
suppose  it  will  always  be  so."  She  smothered 
a  sigh  and  spoke  more  briskly.  "Time's  get- 
ting on,  nurse.  Is  tea  all  ready  to  come  up  if 
anyone  arrives  ?  ' ' 

"  Maybe  ye'd  slip  down  to  the  dairy,  Miss, 
an1  skim  a  sup  of  cream  for  the  tay.  What 
between  Judy  an'  me  cake,  I  haven't  a  minute." 

"  All  right,  nurse;  you  cut  along.  I'll  see  to 
it.  Oh,  by  the  way,  I  suppose  there's  nothing 
but  the  cold  mutton  for  dinner?  " 

As  she  spoke  Molly  was  moving  round  the 
room,  straightening  a  saving-cover  here,  re- 
moving a  speck  of  dust  there,  and  generally 
endeavouring  to  make  the  place  look  what  she 
would  call  "a  little  more  presentable." 

"  I  cud  make  a  hash  of  the  mutton  sure," 
answered  Mrs.  Kilkelly.  "  Och,  well  I  remem- 
ber the  time  when  a  score  might  drop  in  for 
dinner  at  Liscarrick  all  unbeknownst,  an'  ate 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

and  drink  of  the  best — lashins  an'  lavinsof  it — "" 

"  I  hate  to  hear  that  kind  of  talk,"  interrupted 
Molly.  "  If  there  had  been  less  of  that  in  the 
good  old  times,  as  you  call  them,  there'd  be 
more  for  us  to-day.  Now  nurse,  I'm  off  to  the 
dairy!" 

11  An'  I've  that  much  to  do  I  dunno  what  to 
lay  me  hand  to  first,"  said  Mrs.  Kilkelly, 
pausing,  nevertheless,  to  cast  a  glance  out  of 
the  window.  She  drew  back  in  consternation. 

"  Miss  Molly,  Miss  Molly  alannah,  there's 
two  gintlemen  walking  up  the  avenue." 

"Strangers?"  queried  Molly,  tiptoeing  to 
the  window. 

"  I  niver  seen  either  of  them  afore." 

"  Nor  I.  I'm  off  to  the  dairy,  nurse.  Say 
there's  no  one  in.  I  don't  know  where  Mamma 
is,  and  Bob's  out  anyhow."  And  Molly  made 
for  the  door. 

"  But  Miss  Molly.  Sure  I  dunno,  maybe 
they've  come  a  long  way.  Ought  I  ax  them 
stay  an'  have  a  bit  of  dinner?  " 

11  If  you  dare.  Do  you  want  to  disgrace  the 
house  when  you  know  there's  nothing  but 
hashed  mutton !  Now,  Nurse !  I  leave  it  to 
your  native  tact  to  deal  with  the  situation." 
And  Molly  fled. 

"Glory  be!"  ejaculated  the  old  woman, 
wringing  her  hands.  "  What'll  I  do  at  all, 
at  all?  If  they've  come  for  a  visit — an'  the 
misthress  has  no  more  head  nor  a  hen.  Sure 
God's  good.  Maybe  they've  med  a  mistake!  " 

The  sonorous  peal  of  the  door  bell  echoed 
through  the  house,  and  Mrs.  Kilkelly  waddled 

20 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

•out  into  the  hall,  there  encountering  Larry,  the 
butler,  on  his  way  to  answer  the  summons. 

"  I  dunno  who  it  is,  Larry.  Two  gentlemen ! 
Be  sure  ye  find  out  their  names!  " 

Jack  happened  to  be  foremost  as  Larry  opened 
the  door. 

"  Is  Mrs.  Delaney  at  home?  "  he  inquired  in 
the  tone  and  manner  of  an  afternoon  caller. 

Larry  only  stared.  Mrs.  Kilkelly  came  for- 
ward. 

"  I — I  don't  rightly  know,  Sir,"  and  then,  in 
a  swift  aside  to  Larry,  she  added:  "  Did  ye  ax 
them  their  names?" 

"Sure,  I  didn't  like,"  replied  the  butler, 
deprecatingly. 

"Ah,  ye  beauty  I"  whispered  Mrs.  Kilkelly 
vindictively.  "  It's  a  pity  yer  mother  hadn't 
twins  of  ye." 

Gerald,  who  had  recognised  the  two  old  ser- 
vants at  a  glance,  realised  that  he  had  grown 
out  of  their  recollection.  As  he  advanced  with 
assured  step  into  the  hall,  both  were  plainly  non- 
plussed. 

"The  misthress  is  expectin*  ye,  maybe,  sir?" 
ventured  Mrs.  Kilkelly. 

"  I  don't  think  so." 

A  pause  ensued  which  Gerald,  alone  of  the 
company,  seemed  to  enjoy.  Nevertheless,  he 
was  the  first  to  break  it. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  other  rooms  here  besides 
this  hall?" 

"  Other— other  rooms,  is  it?"  Mrs.  Kilkelly 
nearly  choked  in  her  indignation.  "  Larry, 
show  these  gentlemen  into  the  back  drawing- 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

robm — leastways,  I  suppose  they  are  gentle- 
men," she  added  in  a  purposely  audible 
aside,  "but  the  Lord  alone  knows.  Miss 
Molly'll  be  here  presently,"  continued  the  old 
woman,  following  the  travellers  into  the  room. 
11  She's  below  in  the — she's  at  the  present  time 
— she's  down " 

But  Larry,  who  was  quite  aware  of  Molly's 
occupation  at  the  moment,  and  who  had  no  idea 
of  allowing  nurse  to  dim  the  glories  of  Liscarrick 
by  any  unguarded  admissions,  covered  his  fel- 
low servant's  confusion. 

"  Miss  Molly's  at  the  meet  of  the  foxhounds 
at  Tullymaine  at  this  present — ridin'  out  wid 
her  groom." 

"Yes,  sir,"  exclaimed  nurse,  quick  to  adopt 
the  hint  and  improve  upon  it.  "  I  seen  her 
ridin'  off;  she  was  wearin'  her  grand  new  habit 
from  Dublin." 

"  An'  a  hat  wid  a  cockade,"  added  Larry, 
not  to  be  outdone. 

"  Will  ye  whist  wid  yer  cockade — that  was 
the  groom." 

"  Av'  course  it  was  the  groom,"  confirmed 
the  unabashed  Larry.  "Would  Miss  Delaney, 
of  Liscarrick,  wear  the  like?" 

Mrs.     Kilkelly     resumed     her     explanation. 

"  An'  the  misthress  is  lyin'  down  wid  a  severe 
headache.  An'  Master  Bob — his  honour,  I  mane 
— is  out  wid  the  hounds.  If  it  was  a  thing 
they'd  been  expectin'  yez,  gentlemen,  sure 
they'd  have  left  orders;  but  maybe  yer  honours 
would  be  plazed  to  take  a  cup  of  tay,  or  a  small 
drop  of  whisky  and  water  afore  drivin'  further." 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"That's  the  cold  kick  out,"  whispered  Jack. 
"What  about  your  Irish  welcome  now,  eh? 
I've  had  warmer." 

"Just  note  the  transformation,"  answered 
Gerald  in  the  same  tone,  and  he  turned  to  Mrs. 
Kilkelly.  "  I  should  like  a  cup  of  tea,  nurse, 
and  some  of  that  potato  cake  of  yours,  if  you 
haven't  lost  the  secret." 

The  two  servants  exchanged  glances  of  amaze- 
ment— almost  of  consternation. 

"  Glory  be,"  exclaimed  nurse;  "  he  mustn't 
be  right.  How  did  he  know  I  med  one  this 
very  day." 

"  Guessed  it,  tho'  I  haven't  tasted  one  for 
eighteen  years,"  cried  Gerald,  heartily. 
"  Why,  nurse,  is  if  possible  you  have  forgot- 
ten Master  Gerald?  " 

The  poor  old  thing  fell  into  such  a  flutter  of 
agitation  and  delight  that  Gerald  would  have 
apologised  for  his  mystification  if  he  could  have 
stemmed  the  torrent  of  her  welcome.  Shaking 
and  crooning  in  her  excitement  she  fitted  on  her 
spectacles  and  came  close  to  him,  peering  into 
his  face,  and  pouring  forth  exclamations  and 
blessings : 

"  Mother  of  mercy!  It's  Master  Gerald;  it's 
Master  Gerald  himself,  that  I  carried  in  these 
arms  when  he  wasn't  the  height  of  a  candle. 
Oh,  God's  good,  God's  good !  He  was  the 
swatest  child  of  all  the  childher  ever  I  nursed 
an'  he's  come  back  to  us,  a  fine  grand  gentle- 
man. Ah,  me  boy,  me  beautiful  boy!" 

She  broke  off  to  seize  his  hand  and  cover  it 
with  kisses,  while  the  tears  rolled  unheeded 
23 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

down  her  wrinkled  cheeks.  Gerald  bent  down 
and  kissed  the  old  woman,  but  her  emotion 
was  not  to  be  checked. 

She  stepped  back,  weeping  and  shaking,  and 
stood  with  clasped  hands  raised  as  though  in 
prayer  or  blessing,  and  with  her  streaming  eyes 
fixed  on  her  nurseling's  face. 

Larry,  who  had  been  eagerly  awaiting  his 
turn,  stepped  forward  and  wrung  Gerald's  hand. 
Though  earnest  enough,  there  was  something 
quaint  in  the  old  fellow's  manner  which  changed 
the  atmosphere  from  tears  to  smiles  with  the 
quickness  of  an  April  day. 

"  It's  welcome  home,  ye  are,  yer  honour,  an' 
now  I  hope  you've  come  to  live  among  us  and 
that  ye'll  bring  a  beautiful  lady  to  Liscarrick 
that'll  hand  down  the  name  of  Delaney  to  all 
posterity.  Musha,  but  I'd  have  walked  bare- 
foot to  Dublin  to  see  this  day." 

"  And  yet  you  didn't  know  me,  Larry,"  said 
Gerald  smiling. 

"Know  ye!"  cried  Larry  with  conviction, 
"  sure  I'd  know  yer  honour  if  I  met  ye  blind- 
fold in  the  black  midnight." 

"So  I  perceived,"  said  Gerald  drily.  "  And 
this  is  my  friend  Mr.  Jack  Whalen,  Larry, 
who  has  come  with  me  all  the  way  from  Cali- 
fornia." 

"  He's  a  fine  young  gentleman,  yer  honour," 
remarked    Larry   with    ready    politeness,    "an' 
very  light  complected  to  come  from  them  parts. 
Sure  I  thought  they  was  all  naygurs  out  there." 
"  Mr.  Whalen  is  an  Irishman  too;  half  Irish, 
at  any  rate,"  answered  Gerald. 
24 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"  Musha,  but  half  Irish  is  a  good  mixture, 
even  if  the  other  half  was  nothing  better  nor 
water.  Yer  sarvint,  sir,"  he  added,  with  a  duck 
of  the  head  in  Jack's  direction;  "Whalen's 
a  name  highly  thought  of  in  these  parts,  an' 
Whalen's  Shamrock  Blend  has  given  me  many 
a  sore  head  afore  this  day." 

"Where's  everybody?  Where's  the  mis- 
tress, nurse,"  Gerald  asked. 

"  She's  above  in  her  room  dressing,  sir.  But 
I'll  tell  Miss  Molly  you're  here,"  added  the 
old  woman  moving  towards  the  door. 

"  You  mean,  you'll  tell  her  when  she  returns 
from  hunting,"  suggested  Gerald  slyly. 

"  Ah,  go  on  out  of  that!  Ye  know  rightly." 
And  Mrs.  Kilkelly,  all  traces  of  recent  tears 
banished  from  her  smiling  face,  ambled  forth 
on  her  errand. 

"Ah,  yer  honour,"  cried  Larry  in~  reminis- 
cent mood,  "there'll  be  grand  doings  now  we 
have  yourself  home  agen.  D'ye  mind  the  day 
when  your  brother — may  his  soul  be  in  glory 
this  day — give  the  big  dance  after  Mr.  Bob 
was  born." 

"I  remember  it  well,  Larry;  but  I  don't 
think  you  were  in  a  condition  to  recall  it 
accurately." 

"  Deed  then  I  mind  it  all  punctually.  There 
was  a  big  cask  of  porther  an'  a  smaller  one  of 
whisky  'ithout  in  the  yard,  an'  a  tin  cup  tied 
to  the  bunghole.  No  questions  axed  but  help 
yerself,  an'  bonfires  all  down  the  avenue,  an' 
thriumphant  arches,  and  not  a  man  went  to  bed 
sober  that  night  in  the  Barony  of  Liscarrick." 
25 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"  Such,  Jack,  were  our  simple  rural  joys," 
observed  Gerald. 

"Ah,"  wailed  Larry,  "if  we'd  only  got  the 
wind  of  the  word  yerself  was  comin',  we'd  have 
had  the  whole  Barony  at  the  gates,  an'  the  arches 
an'  all." 

"  Including  the  whisky  and  the  porter  and  the 
drunken  men?  I  don't  doubt  it.  You  see, 
Jack,  there  was  method  in  my  madness  when  I 
declined  to  name  a  day  for  our  arrival."  And 
as  Larry  withdrew,  Gerald  continued.  "Well, 
what  do  you  think  of  it  all?  " 

"  I  think  it's  a  dear  old  place,"  answered  Jack 
with  enthusiasm. 

"  I  suppose  it  is — at  least  to  me.  It  is  just 
as  I  left  it.  Nothing  ever  changes  here.  Even 
nurse  and  Larry  don't  seem  a  day  older.  The 
furniture — the  very  nick-nacks  are  the  same. 
Things  get  broken  but  they  don't  get  mended 
or  replaced."  He  lifted  an  armchair  and 
peeped  under  it.  "I  thought  so.  I  stole  a 
castor  off  that  chair  to  rig  up  a  toy  cannon  when 
I  was  eleven,  and  someone  replaced  it  with  a 
boot  heel .  Behold  it !  That  clock  on  the  mantel 
has  pointed  to  nine  minutes  past  seven  as  long 
as  I  can  remember." 

As  they  stood  amused  and  wondering  there 
was  a  rustle  of  draperies,  and  Molly  paused  in 
the  doorway. 

She  looked  from  one  to  the  other.  She  had 
been  told  her  uncle  Gerald  was  in  the  library, 
but  here  were  two  men,  both  equafly  strangers 
to  her,  and  she  knew  not  which  to  greet.  She 
had  run  all  the  way  from  the  dairy,  through 
26 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

the  labyrinth  of  stone  passages  that  led  from 
the  front  of  Liscarrick  to  its  spacious  back  offices, 
ready  with  the  warmest  of  welcomes  and  per- 
chance a  kiss  for  her  uncle  Gerald.  Now, 
checked  in  her  impulse,  she  halted  on  the  thres- 
hold, uncertain  whether  to  advance  or  retire. 
There  was  a  slight  flush  on  her  cheeks,  she  was 
breathing  a  little  quickly,  and  felt  uncomfortably 
conscious  of  the  long  apron  she  had  tied  over 
her  blue  frock  and  had  not  stopped  to  remove. 
So  standing,  she  made  a  charming  picture,  and 
so  thought  both  of  the  men  who  were  privileged 
to  gaze  upon  it. 

"Well,  Molly — you  are  Molly,  I  suppose," 
said  Gerald.  "  I've  got  home  at  last,  you  see." 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Gerald,  you  are  welcome,  wel- 
come, welcome  home.  You  don't  know  how 
glad  I  am  to  see  you." 

She  ran  to  him  and  threw  her  arms  round  his 
neck,  giving  him  a  kiss  for  each  "  welcome." 

"  And  so  this  is  Molly,"  said  Gerald,  return- 
ing her  warm  greeting  with  real  affection.  "  I 
mustn't  call  you  '  Baby  '  any  longer,  I  suppose." 

"  You'd  never  have  known  me,  would  you  ?  " 
asked  she. 

"•Well,  considering  you  were  rising  three 
when  I  left  home,  a  little  shaver  in  cocktail  petti- 
coats, I  can't  truthfully  say  that  I  should.  Now 
you  are — let  me  see — eighteeen  and  two  are — 
but  I  mustn't  give  a  lady's  age  away.  Molly, 
this  is  my  friend,  Jack  Whalen.  We  were  chums 
all  through  the  Manchurian  campaign,  and  for 
many  a  day  before  it.  Jack,  my  niece,  Miss 
Delaney." 

37 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"Welcome  to  Liscarrick,  Mr.  Whalen,"  said 
Molly,  frankly  extending  a  little  hand  which 
Jack  was  not  slow  to  seize.  "  I  hope  you  have 
come  to  make  us  a  long  visit." 

The  journalist's  usually  ready  tongue  tripped 
and  faltered  over  a  few  phrases  of  commonplace 
acknowledgment,  but  he  was  spared  further 
embarrassment  by  the  appearance  of  Mrs. 
Delaney. 

Molly's  mother  had  been  a  pretty  girl,  and 
at  five  and  forty  she  was  a  pretty  woman  still. 
It  would  be  unfair  to  enquire  how  far  art  assisted 
nature  in  preserving  her  good  looks,  for  she 
never  appeared  till  late  in  the  day,  by  which 
time  her  roses  were  always  in  bloom.  Not  very 
brilliant,  fond  of  admiration,  good  hearted  and 
incapable,  it  was  easy  to  understand  how  Lis- 
carrick, under  her  invertebrate  sway,  grew 
shabbier  and  dingier,  all  unnoticed  by  its  mis- 
tress, who  was  constitutionally  inclined  to  take 
things  as  they  came — and  leave  them  so. 

Greetings  and  introductions  followed  as  be- 
fore, and  presently,  refreshments  having  been 
declined,  Larry  was  summoned  to  show  the 
gentlemen  to  their  rooms.  Jack  was  taken  in 
charge  by  the  garrulous  old  servant,  but  Gerald, 
declaring  that  he  needed  no  one  to  show  him 
the  way,  lingered  a  few  minutes  in  conversation 
with  his  sister-in-law  and  his  niece. 

"  Neighbourhood,  my  dear!  "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Delaney  in  answer  to  a  remark  of  Gerald's. 
"Don't  speak  of  it!  There  is  none.  The 
Boyles  have  gone,  and  so  have  the  O'Reillys. 
Cecil  Haviland  has  sold  everything  and  gone  to 
28 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

Australia,  and  the  Desmonds  are  living  in 
lodgings  in  Boulogne,  and  daren't  cross  the 
channel.  They  write  sometimes  and  say  there 
is  no  lack  of  cheerful  society — they  call  Boulogne 
the  town  of  broken  English.  No,  there's  no- 
body left." 

"There's  Kate  Fetherstone,  mamma,"  put 
in  Molly. 

"Yes,  there's  Kate  Fetherstone;  a  charming 
girl — at  least,  she's  eight  and  twenty  I  daresay, 
and  lives  at  the  Priory  with  her  companion, 
Mrs.  Purvis,  She's  rich — oh,  absurdly  rich. 
She  owns  Whalen's  Distillery,  or  the  greater 
part  of  it — Shamrock  Blend,  you  know.  It's 
advertised  everywhere." 

"  I  made  her  acquaintance  at  Corragh 
Bridge,"  remarked  Gerald.  "She  was  riding 
and  the  horse  fell  lame,  so  I  lent  her  our  car. 
She  said  she'd  drive  over  here  to  tea  and  bring 
our  luggage." 

"You  walked,  then?"  asked  Mrs.  Delaney. 

"  Only  from  the  gate,"  he  replied. 

"Oh,  Uncle  Gerald,"  Molly  broke  in,  "I'm 
so  glad  you  were  civil  and  nice  to  her.  I  know 
you'll  like  her.  Wait  till  you  know  her." 

"  I  mean  to,"  said  Gerald.  "  And  is  Miss 
Fetherstone  your  only  neighbour?" 

"  Well,  there's  Mr.  O'Hara,  a  great  friend  of 
Bob's.  He's  a  very  lively  and  entertaining 
young  man." 

"Mr.  O'Hara!  Mamma  means  old  Mat 
O'Hara's  son,  from  Ballintubber,"  said  Molly 
contemptuously. 

"  Mat  O'Hara's  son,  from  Ballintubber,"  re- 
29 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

peated   Gerald  aghast.     "  You  don't  mean   to 
say  that  he  visits  here." 

"  My  dear  Gerald,  times  have  changed,"  ex- 
plained Mrs.  Delaney.  "  Mr.  O'Hara's  uncle 
in  Australia  died  a  couple  of  years  ago  and  left 
him  very  well  off." 

"But  Mat  O'Hara's  son!"  objected  Gerald. 

"  Gerald,  you  are  so  prejudiced,"  complained 
his  sister-in-law. 

"  What  sort  is  he?  I  only  remember  him  as 
a  bare-legged  gossoon." 

"  Oh,  he's  blossomed  out  into  a  sort  of 
squireen  since  he  got  his  money,"  said  Molly. 
"  He  rides  to  hounds  when  he's  sober  enough; 
goes  to  the  big  meetings  at  Leopardstown  and 
Punchestown,  and  has  his  whisky — a  good  deal 
of  it,  too — down  from  Dublin." 

"And  comes  to  tea  at  Liscarrick,"  added 
Gerald.  "  Well,  Emmie,  I  think  I'll  go  and 
wash  my  hands.  I  can  always  repeat  the  opera- 
tion after  I  have  shaken  hands  with  Matthew 
O'Hara,  Esq.  The  pink  room,  I  think  you 
said?  All  right.  I'll  be  down  again  directly." 


CHAPTER  III. 

MAT  O'HARA  OF  BALLINTUBBER. 

DURING  his  father's  life  time  Mat  O'Hara  with 
much  distaste  and  under  sore  compulsion,  had 
worked  hard  on  the  farm,  and  dreamed  dreams 
of  a  future  in  which  cattle  and  mangolds  bore 
no  part.  When  the  place  came  to  him  on  the 
old  man's  death  he  exchanged  his  fustian  and 
corduroys  for  a  smart  riding  suit  and  top  boots, 
and  quickly  developed  a  pretty  taste  for  whisky 
and  horseflesh.  As  Molly  had  hinted,  he  at- 
tended the  principal  race  meetings,  and  ordered 
his  "  groceries  "  in  Dublin.  For  a  time  all 
went  well,  or  seemed  to  do  so,  but  wise  old 
neighbours  shook  their  heads  and  opined  that 
young  Mat  was  "  making  ducks  and  drakes 
of  one  of  the  purtiest  farms  in  the  county." 
And  soon  it  became  known  that  the  crops  on 
Ballintubber  were  mortgaged  ere  they  had  well 
sprouted,  and  the  line  of  fine  cows  that  had  once 
trooped  lowing  each  evening  to  the  byre  had 
dwindled  to  one  sorry  beast.  In  short,  Mat's 
ruin  had  come  within  easily  measurable  distance, 
and  the  countryside  was  already  preparing  to 
attend  the  inevitable  auction  sale  at  Ballin- 
tubber, when  the  unexpected  happened  and,  in 
the  words  of  a  farmer  who  felt  defrauded  of 
prospective  bargains,  "  the  divil  stepped  in  to 
take  care  of  his  ~wn." 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

Old  Con  O'Hara,  whose  personality  and 
whose  very  name  had  faded  into  tradition  in  the 
county,  died  suddenly  in  Ballarat,  and  left  young 
Mat  heir  to  all  his  savings. 

Now  came  a  change.  The  fires  burned  bright 
again  in  the  Ballintubber  household;  steeds  of 
price  champed  their  bits  in  the  modernized 
stables ;  whisky  galore  once  more  gladdened  its 
visitors,  and  Mat  O'Hara,  developing  from  an 
unpleasant  chrysalis  into  a  still  more  objection- 
able butterfly,  managed  to  have  himself  placed 
on  the  commission  of  the  peace,  dubbed  himself 
Esquire,  and  assumed  all  the  airs — and  they  are 
not  few — of  an  Irish  Squireen. 

By  the  way,  it  was  from  Larry  that  Jack 
Whalen,  at  a  later  date,  and  apropos  of  Mr. 
O'Hara,  elicited  the  following  fairly  compre- 
hensive definition  of  a  squireen. 

"A  squireen,  sir?"  said  the  old  man  rub- 
bing his  head;  "well,  ye  see,  a  squireen's  not 
a  gintleman — not  but  what  he  dresses  like  one ; 
an'  he's  not  a  farmer — not  but  what  he  talks  like 
one;  he  has  more  impidence  nor  an  attorney  an' 
less  manners  nor  a  chimney  sweep,  an'  nobody 
thinks  anything  of  him  but  himself,  an'  he — 
he  just  thinks  he's  doin'  the  divil  an'  all  the 
whole  time." 

But  Mat  O'Hara,  passing  rich  with  his  uncle's 
twenty  thousand  pounds,  which  local  gossip 
magnified  as  usual  to  a  fortune  of  a  quarter 
million,  cared  for  nobody  or  nothing,  rode  his 
horses,  drank  his  whisky,  and  nourished  his 
secret  ambition  of  marrying  into  one  of  the 
32 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

county  families  and  becoming  a  "  real  gentle- 
man." 

It  was  at  this  period  of  his  career  that  he  be- 
came on  intimate  terms  with  Bob  Delaney. 
There  was  some  excuse  for  Bob.  He  was  very 
young — barely  one  and  twenty;  Mat  was  some 
eight  years  older — and  he  shared  the  other's 
tastes,  that  for  whiskey  fortunately  excepted.  He 
had  scarcely  any  other  available  companion, 
and  was  wholly  without  resources  within  him- 
self. His  education  had  been  wofully  neg-- 
lected.  He  just  straggled  up  like  a  weed,  as 
too  many  young  fellows  do  in  the  remoter  parts 
of  Ireland,  well  born,  a  good  shot,  a  Hashing 
rider,  and — nothing  else. 

It  was  about  twelve  months  after  O'Hara's 
accession  to  fortune  and  nearly  half  as  many 
before  Gerald's  return,  that  a  conversation  was 
held  in  the  too  hospitable  parlour  at  Ballin- 
tubber,  the  consequences  of  which  were  destined 
to  entail  serious  trouble  and  perplexity  to  the 
family  at  Liscarrick. 

Bob  Delaney  had  ridden  over  to  consult  his 
friend,  whose  superior  age  and  "  knowingness  " 
he  still  held  in  much  respect,  on  some  question 
connected  with  an  ailing  spaniel.  The  two  were 
seated  at  the  stout  oaken  table  in  O'Hara's  only 
sitting  room,  discussing  steaming  tumblers  of 
whisky  punch  while  their  talk  range'd  over  many 
topics. 

The  furniture  was  heavy  and  bld-fashione3, 
such  as  may  be  found  in  many  an  Irish  farm- 
house of  the  better  class.  This  was  all  un- 
changed since  the  old  man's  day.  Unchanged, 

33 

c 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

too,  was  the  carpet,  now  ragged  and  inexpres- 
sibly dirty.  Mat  O'Hara  had,  so  far,  brought 
no  neat  handed  Phyllis  to  reign  at  Ballintubber. 

11  I  was  up  in  town  last  Thursday,"  Mat  was 
saying,  "  an'  I  had  another  look  at  that  colt  of 
Flannagan's.  May  I  niver  ate  another  bit  if 
there's  the  like  of  him  in  the  three  counties." 

"  Remember,  it  was  I  saw  him  first,"  cried 
Bob,  eagerly. 

"  Who's  denying  it?  I  always  said  ye  had  a 
good  eye  for  a  horse,  youngster  an'  all  as  ye 
are ;  but  a  throughbred's  a  thing  I  like  to  look 
at  wid  me  own  eyes — especially  when  the  price 
runs  into  four  figures." 

"  Four  figures,"  repeated  Bob,  aghast. 

"  Divil  a  lie  in  it.  Two  thousand  he  was 
axing — guineas  at  that,  an'  I  bet  him  down  to 
sixteen  hundred  pounds  an'  a  tenner  back  for 
luck.  Lower  than  that  he  won't  go,  an'  I  don't 
blame  him.  Look  at  the  breeding  of  him  !  By 
Firefly  out  of  an  Oaks  winner.  Why,  it's  a 
gift,  I  call  it.  He'll  win  his  own  money  in 
stakes  afore  he's  a  four  year  old." 

At  this  tempting  prospect  Bob's  eyes 
glistened. 

"Why  don't  you  buy  him,  Mat?  You 
ought." 

"  I  mean  to,  but  I'm  not  forgettin'  'twas  you 
found  him.  Ye  ought  to  be  in  this,  Bob,  by 
G — d  you  ought." 

Bob  pondered.  The  idea  dazzled  him,  but 
he  knew  too  well  that  eight  hundred  pounds 
was  a  sum  beyond  him. 

"  You're  a  real  decent  chap,  Mat,"  he  said, 

34 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

at  last,  "but  it's  no  go.  I  could  no  more  find 
the  half  of  sixteen  hundred  pounds  than  I  could 
pay  the  National  Debt.  Buy  the  horse,  old 
fellow,  run  him ;  let  me  stand  in  twenty  or  a 
hundred,  or  whatever  I  can  raise  on  his  first 
certainty,  and  you  won't  owe  me  anything." 

"  Look  at  here,  Bob — but  first  fill  your  naggin, 
the  materials  are  at  yer  elbow.  Help  yerself  an' 
pass  the  bottle." 

Then,  when  the  glasses  were  replenished, 
O'Hara  resumed.  "  Ye  don't  know  what  a 
good  thing  you're  missing.  Wait  till  I  tell  ye. 
Ye  may  belave  I  didn't  have  all  that  ould  chat 
with  Flannagan  without  getting  something  out 
of  him.  He  said,  sez  he — this  was  at  the  latther 
end  of  the  discoorse  when  I  had  him  bet  down 
as  far  as  he'd  go — '  Well,  take  him  at  yer  own 
price,  Misther  O'Hara;  I  know  ye'll  trate  the 
little  harse  well  an'  run  him  straight,  an'  if  I 
didn't  I  wouldn't  sell  him  for  twiced  the  money. 
His  dam  niver  was  beat  at  anything  like  fair 
weights,  an'  no  more  was  his  sire.  There's  been 
good  ones  bred  out  of  that  pair,  but  niver  the 
aquil  of  this  one,  an'  its  a  fortin'  I'm  offering 
ye  this  day — take  it  or  lave  it.'  ' 

"What's  the  good  of  telling  me  all  this?" 
said  Bob,  fretfully.  "  I  believe  in  the  horse  as 
much  as  you  do,  or  Flannigan  either;  but  I 
tell  you  I  haven't  a  hundred  pounds — no  nor 
ten,  to  sport  at  the  present  moment." 

"  Don't  let  that  stop  you,"  cried  the  Host, 
draining  his  tumbler.  "  Mat  O'Hara's  no  half- 
way friend.  Here's  yer  chance,  and  may  I 
niver  ate  another  bit  if  I'm  going  to  let  ye  miss 

35 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

it.  I'll  buy  the  little  harse;  sure  I've  plinty, 
an'  if  ye  haven't  the  dirty  coppers  in  yer  pocket 
this  minnit,  sure  it  won't  always  be  so,  plaze 
God.  You  shall  have  your  half  in  the  ventur 
an'  ye'll  give  me  your  note  for  eight  hundred  at 
whatever  interest  ye  think  right,  and  be  jabers 
I  can't  say  fairer  nor  that." 

"  Do  you  mean  it,  Mat?  "  shouted  Bob  with 
heightening  colour  and  sparkling  eyes. 

"  Mat  O'Hara's  word  is  his  bond,"  replied 
the  other,  replenishing  his  glass.  "  We'll  go 
into  'Torney  McMaster  an'  get  the  papers  drawn 
up — not  but  what  I  hate  the  like  between  gentle- 
men, but  sure  what  can  we  do?  An'  we'll  just 
step  in  at  Liscarrick  on  the  way  back  an'  wet  the 
bargain." 

This  last  suggestion  gave  young  Delaney 
pause.  Enthusiastic  as  he  was  at  the  prospect 
of  becoming  part  owner  of  "  the  little  harse," 
and  flushed  with  a  quite  unusual  quantity  of 
whiskey  punch,  he  could  not  but  remember  that 
O'Hara  had  never  yet  set  foot  within  the  man- 
sion of  Liscarrick  as  a  guest,  and  he  had  grave 
misgivings  as  to  his  mother's  and  sister's  views 
of  such  an  introduction.  But  in  the  good  fellow- 
ship of  the  moment,  and  still  glowing  with  a 
sense  of  his  host's  unexpected  generosity  it  was 
difficult  to  frame  a  plausible  excuse.  So  there 
was  only  a  moment's  pause  before  he  replied, 
with  a  fair  assumption  of  cordiality. 

"  That  we  will;  wet  it  with  the  best  in  the 
house,  and  drink  the  colt's  health  into  the 
bargain." 

"More  power  to  ye,"  cried  Mat.  "  To- 
36 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

morrow's  a  go,  and  as  we'll  drink  his  health  in 
good  ould  liquor  in  the  good  ould  house, 
begorra,  we'll  christen  him  after  it.  The  colt 
shall  be  called  '  Liscarrick,'  an'  shall  run  in 
the  colours  of  Robert  Delaney  and  Matthew 
O'Hara,  Esquires,  an'  if  he  doesn't  pull  off 
Punchestown  next  spring,  call  me  a  lepre- 
chaun." 

The  colt's  health  was  toasted  in  his  native 
liquor  as  they  called  it,  and  Mat  saw  his  friend 
safely  mounted  and  started  on  his  homeward 
road. 

Then  he  returned  to  the  house  and  thought 
over  what  he  had  done. 

Mat  O'Hara  did  not  lack  cunning,  and  tho' 
eight  hundred  pounds  was  a  stiff  price  to  pay, 
he  did  not  grudge  it.  For  the  entree  at  Liscar- 
rick meant  to  him  the  first  step  on  the  ladder  of 
his  lofty  ambition.  And,  of  course,  if  the 
worst  came  to  the  worst,  Robert  Delaney  was 
still  good,  under  legal  pressure  if  necessary,  for 
such  a  comparatively  trifling  amount. 

And  as  Bob  rode  homeward  through  the 
gathering  dusk  his  brain  was  aglow  with 
ecstatic  visions.  He  saw  the  crowded  race 
course ;  he  saw  the  gay  jackets  of  the  jockeys ; 
he  heard  the  thunder  of  the  flying  hoofs  as  the 
horses  flashed  by.  And  louder  than  all,  gather- 
ing in  volume  as  a  dark  chestnut  drew  further 
and  further  ahead,  he  heard  the  swelling  cry 
from  a  thousand  throats — "  Liscarrick!  Liscar- 
rick !  Liscarrick  wins  !  " 

He  fancied  that  he  was  himself  riding  the 
winner  to  triumph  and  pressed  his  pony  on  in  a 

37 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

wild  gallop  through  the  gloom.  But  he  drew 
rein  as  he  passed  the  gates  and  jogged  up  the 
avenue  soberly  enough.  The  eight  hundred 
pound  bill  he  was  ready  and  willing  to  sign,  at 
any  date  and  bearing  any  interest.  Bob  was 
but  twenty-one,  and  at  no  period  of  life  had  any 
of  his  blood  been  remarkable  for  prudence. 
But  there  was  another  condition  attached  to  his 
bargain,  and  how  was  his  mother  likely  to 
receive  such  a  guest  as  Mat  O'Hara. 

After  all,  he  need  not  have  troubled  himself 
on  this  score.  Mrs.  Delaney  felt  her  life  too 
lonely  to  be  over  particular.  A  handsome,  well- 
set-up  young  man  like  O'Hara — and  in  these 
respects  nature  had  been  prodigal  in  her  gifts  to 
the  Squireen — could  not  fail  to  waken  interest 
of  one  kind  or  another  in  the  mind  of  an  idle, 
foolish  woman.  She  knew  Mat  by  appearance 
and  by  common  repute.  She  knew  he  was  a 
wild,  harum-scarum  fellow,  much  given  to  dogs 
and  horses,  but  she  had  never  happened  to  hear 
that  he  was  a  harder  drinker  than  ordinary,  and 
of  any  darker  episodes  in  his  life  she  was  com- 
pletely ignorant.  It  was  from  Molly  that  the 
chief  objection  to  the  proposed  introduction 
arose,  and  she  was  vehement  and  outspoken  in 
her  criticisms. 

"Mat  O'Hara!"  she  cried.  "I  wonder  at 
you,  Bob.  I  should  think  Papa  would  turn  in 
his  grave  if  he  were  here  listening  to  you  now." 

In  her  excitement  Molly  ignored  the  limita- 
tions of  time  and  space,  but  her  meaning  was 
clear  enough. 

11  Molly,   dear,  control  yourself,"  urged  her 
38 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

mother.     "  Who  is  there  in  this  desert  to  know 
or  care  whom  we  receive  ?  ' ' 

"  I  care,"  said  Molly  doggedly. 

"  Hang  it,  Molly,  he's  a  friend  of  mine," 
cried  Bob. 

"  More  shame  for  you,"  answered  the  girl. 

"  Mr.  O'Hara  is  very  well  off  since  his  uncle 
died,  and  he  is  such  a  handsome  man,"  pursued 
Mrs.  Delaney. 

"  Mamma,  dear,  can't  you  see?  "  cried  Molly 
impatiently.  "  Even  if  the  creature  were  a 
gentleman,  which  he's  not  and  never  will  be, 
he's  no  business  here.  We  are  two  women 
living  in  this  great  place,  and  we  must  be  care- 
ful whom  we  receive.  It  isn't  as  if  there  were 
a  man  in  the  house." 

"I'm  here,"  asserted  Bob. 

"  Oh  you  !  It's  you've  brought  this  on  us! 
You're  only  a  brat  of  a  boy,"  ejaculated  Molly 
contemptuously, — a  reply  which  reduced  her 
brother  to  speechless  indignation  and  left 
him  feeling  helplessly  for  that  dilatory 
moustache. 

"  Your  Uncle  Gerald  talks  of  paying  us  a 
visit  as  soon  as  he  can  get  away  from  this 
wretched  war,"  observed  Mrs.  Delaney,  on 
whom  Molly's  last  argument  had  produced  some 
impression.  "  I  hope  he'll  make  a  good  long 
stay  when  he  comes." 

"  So  do  I,"  echoed  Molly;  "  someone's  badly 
wanted  here.  Everything's  at  sixes  and  sevens. 
I  wonder  what  he'll  say  when  he  finds  Mat 
O'Hara's  clodhopping  feet  under  his  brother's 
dining  table." 

39 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"Hold  your  tongue,  Molly!"  cried  Bob 
angrily. 

But  Molly's  Irish  temper  was  all  aflame. 

"  He's  nothing  but  a  low,  drunken  squireen. 
I  pray  night  and  morning  that  Uncle  Gerald 
may  come,  and  come  soon.  I  think  I  can  picture 
the  reception  he  will  give  Mat  O'Hara." 

And  with  flaming  cheeks  and  shining  eyes, 
Molly  flounced  out  of  the  room. 

Bob  looked  at  his  mother,  and  his  mother 
looked  at  Bob.  The  latter  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  lit  one  of  the  cheap  cigars  he  affected, 
and  observed : 

"  Here's  the  deuce  and  all  of  a  ruction  all 
about  nothing.  Wait  till  Molly  gets  to  know 
Mat.  She'll  find  he's  just  as  good  a  sort  as  the 
next  one." 

But  Molly  did  not  make  the  acquaintance  of 
the  owner  of  Ballintubber  on  this  occasion. 
She  had  ordered  the  pony  trap,  gone  to  her 
room  to  pack  her  bag,  and  within  half  an  hour 
was  well  on  her  way  to  the  Priory,  where 
she  had  a  standing  invitation  to  come  as  often 
and  stay  as  long  as  she  pleased. 


40 


CHAPTER  IV. 

SANCTUARY. 

THE  style  and  scale  of  living  at  the  Priory 
afforded  a  marked  contrast  to  that  prevailing  at 
Liscarrick.  At  Miss  Fetherstone's  home  wealth 
and  luxury  had  done  much  to  smooth  the 
asperities  of  life  in  an  Irish  western  county. 
Soft  piled  carpets  caressed  the  foot;  easy  chairs 
and  lounges,  with  no  ingenious  boot  heel  or 
cork  to  simulate  a  false  security,  invited  repose; 
a  bountiful  table  and  well  trained  servants  were 
there  to  welcome  the  visitor,  and  the  whole 
manage  moved  on  its  well-oiled  wheels  with  a 
smoothness  that  soothed  like  a  rest-cure  the 
jangled  nerves  of  poor  harassed  Molly. 

She  entered  the  morning  room,  where  Kate 
Fetherstone  was  sitting  with  her  friend  and 
companion,  Mrs.  Purvis,  as  abruptly  and  tem- 
pestuously as  a  whirlwind,  for  the  five  miles' 
drive  had  not  been  quite  long  enough  to  wholly 
calm  her  impetuous  temper. 

"  Why,  Molly  dear,  how  late  you  are,"  said 
Kate  rising  and  kissing  her.  "  Have  you  had 
tea?" 

Mrs.  Purvis  had  risen  too,  and  her  hand  was 
on  the  bell. 

"  Bother  tea,"  cried  outspoken  Molly.  "  Oh, 
41 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

I  beg  your  pardon.  I  don't  care  about  any. 
Don't  trouble,  Mrs.  Purvis,  please.  I've 
brought  my  bag,  Kate,  and  I'm  going  to  stay 
the  night. 

"  For  more  than  the  night,  I  hope,"  spoke 
Kate,  heartily.  "  You  know  it's  a  real  pleasure 
to  me  to  have  you  whenever  I  can  get  you. 
What  good  wind  blew  you  over?  " 

"Oh,  I  just  thought  I'd  come,"  answered 
Molly,  awkwardly,  with  a  glance  at  Mrs.  Purvis. 
"I'll  tell  you  all  about  it  by  and  bye." 

"  Would  you  be  so  very  kind  as  to  give  orders 
about  Molly's  room,"  said  Miss  Fetherstone, 
addressing  her  companon,  "  and  you  might 
send  in  tea.  I'm  always  ready  for  a  cup,  and 
I'm  sure  it  will  do  the  child  good  after  her  cold 
drive.  Now  dear,"  she  went  on  when  Mrs. 
Purvis  had  left  the  room,  "  tell  me  all  about 
it.  What's  up?" 

"  Oh  they  do  drive  me  half  crazy  at  home," 
said  Molly,  swaying  forward  in  her  chair  and 
clasping  her  knees  in  her  hands.  "  Bob's  such 
a  bear  and  Mamma — well,  Mamma's  so  impos- 
sible. You'll  never  guess  their  latest.  Bob  has 
asked  Mat  O'Hara  to  lunch  or  something,  and 
Mamma  backs  him  up." 

"  Is  that  all?  "  asked  Kate  laughing.  "  I'd 
like  to  meet  this  Mr.  O'Hara.  I've  heard  a 
lot  of  him.  I  wonder,  if  I  met  him  and  were 
very  nice  to  him,  would  he  ask  me  to  tea  at 
Ballintubber." 

"  Kate,  how  can  you?"  cried  Molly  impul- 
sively.    "Why,  he's  a  perfectly  horrid  man; 
he's  drunk  more  than  half  his  time,  and  he  was 
42 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

in  a  scandalous  breach  of  promise  case  a  tew 
months  ago,  and  found  guilty,  and  had  to  pay 
damages.  It  was  in  all  the  papers." 

"  I  know  he  is  not  a  very  desirable  person," 
said  Kate,  more  gravely;  "but  Molly,  dear, 
you  mustn't  be  unreasonable.  The  man  has 
means  and  a  certain  sort  of  position ;  he's  bound 
to  find  his  way,  sooner  or  later,  into  the  few 
good  houses  that  remain  open  in  these  parts, 
and  Bob  has  chosen  to  make  a  friend  of  him. 
You  can't  fight  your  mother  and  brother  single 
handed.  Make  the  best  of  it." 

"  It's  easy  for  you  to  talk,"  wailed  the  girl. 
"  You  have  everything  you  want,  and  are  your 
own  mistress.  Do  you  know,  to  me  one  of  the 
standing  marvels  of  life  is,  why  you  are  content 
to  live  in  this  God  forsaken  country  at  all." 

"  Do  you  know  why,"  answered  Kate 
earnestly.  "  Because  I  feel  safe  here — safe  and 
at  peace.  Molly,  I've  had  my  taste  of  fashion 
and  the  great  world,  and  I  didn't  like  them. 
I  spent  a  season  or  two  in  London  with  my 
sister;  she  brought  me  out,  I  went  everywhere, 
saw  everything " 

"  And  didn't  like  it  ?  "  queried  Molly,  amazed. 

"  I  hated  it,"  and  in  answer  to  the  younger 
girl's  look  of  surprise,  Kate  went  on.  "  Yes,  I 
hated  it,  and  you'd  hate  it  too.  You  wouldn't 
like  to  be  sought  for  what  you  have,  not  for 
what  you  are;  to  feel  that  any  attention  you 
might  receive  was  offered  to  your  money — not 
to  yourself." 

"  Kate,   dear,   what  a  horrid  feeling,"   said 
Molly  with  a  little  shiver. 
43 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"  Quite  inevitable,  though.  Yes,  it  is,"  in- 
sisted Kate  as  Molly  shook  her  head.  "  In  one 
London  season  I  had  six  proposals." 

"  I  don't  wonder  at  it,"  rejoined  Molly, 
gazing  with  unfeigned  admiration  at  her 
friend,  whose  handsome  face  looked  at  the 
moment  as  bright  and  animated  as  Molly's  own, 
and  almost  as  young. 

"  It  was  my  money,  dear,  not  myself  they 
wanted.  Yes,  I  had  six  proposals — not  count- 
ing nibbles,  and  they  were  all  as  poor  as  church 
mice." 

"  And  you  refused  them  all,"  quoth  Molly 
breathless. 

"  I  did,  more  or  less  adroitly;  one  improves 
with  practice,"  answered  Kate  bitterly.  "  There 
was  one  of  them  I  almost  accepted." 

"  You  were  in  love  with  him?  "  Molly  asked 
quickly.  She  adored  these  confidences,  and  her 
own  troubles  were  for  the  moment  forgotten. 

"  I  can't  quite  say  that,  but  I  despised  him 
less  than  the  others.  He  was  a  Viscount,  and 
he  really  made  love  rather  nicely.  I  never 
doubted  that  he  found  his  inspiration  in  my 
person,  not  my  purse.  We  women  are  such 
fools  sometimes." 

"And  did  you ?" 

"I  did  not;  simply  because  I  chanced 
to  hear  part  of  a  conversation  between 
his  mother  and  his  aunt,  which  was  as- 
suredly never  meant  for  my  ears.  Mamma 
said:  "I  am  so  glad  that  there  is  a 
prospect  of  dear  Valentine  settling  down 
at  last — a  good  match,  too,  as  far  as  money  goes. 
44 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

He  tells  me  he  only  has  to  ask  and  to  have." 

"  Oh  Kate,  she  never  could  have  meant  you  !" 

"  Wait  till  I  quote  Auntie.  '  I  suppose  it  is 
that  wild  Irish  girl,  Lady  Charlton's  sister?  I 
trust  there  is  no  doubt  about  the  money  my 
dear !  To  which  Mamma  replied,  '  Oh,  Valen- 
tine has  assured  himself  on  that  point.  It's 
whisky,  you  know,  Irish  whisky.  But  there  will 
be  no  odour  of  the  still  upon  the  sovereigns." 

"  Kate  !  "  gasped  Molly,  horrified. 

"  Ah,  Molly,  you  don't  know  your  luck. 
You  haven't  a  sixpence,  and  you  can  only  be 
wooed  for  your  own  sweet  self.  I'd  like  to  go 
out,  a  beggar  maid,  and  stand  in  the  market 
place,  so  that  I  could  be  sure  I  was  chosen  for 
myself." 

"I'm  sure  if  I  were  a  man "  began  Molly 

eagerly,  but  the  other  interrupted  her. 

"  But,  you  see,  you're  not;  so  I  shall  have  to 
die  an  old  maid — when  I'd  a  great  deal  rather 
be  wooed,  and  won,  and  kissed,  and  married — as 
you  will  be  one  of  these  fine  days,  Molly,  dear." 

"Nonsense!"  said  Molly,  rising  with  a 
crimson  face.  "  There  isn't  a  man  I'd  have, 
aind  well  you  know  it.  Here's  tea,"  she  con- 
tinued, as  Bishop,  the  butler,  entered  with  the 
tray.  "  How  good  you  are  to  me,  Kate,"  you 
fairly  spoil  me." 

"  Shut  up  and  drink  your  tea,"  laughed  Kate. 
"  There  now,  you  look  comfey,  and  here  comes 
Mrs.  Purvis.  She  has  had  hers,  and  so  have  I, 
but  we're  always  game  for  a  second  innings — 
aren't  we  Mrs.  Purvis?  " 

The  conversation  became  general,   and  Miss 

45 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

Fetherstone's  peculiar  and  somewhat  morbid 
views  on  money  and  marriage  were  not  further 
discussed.  It  was  not  the  first  time  that  she  had 
touched  on  these  topics  in  intimate  chat  with 
her  young  friend,  but  Molly  had  never  before 
found  her  so  outspoken — and  so  bitter. 

Dress,  servants,  and  the  weather  had  been 
duly  mentioned  and  criticised,  and  the  three 
ladies  had  fallen  silent,  momentarily  expecting 
the  dressing  gong,  when  Kate  suddenly  said  : 

"  It  can't  be  very  comfortable  for  you  at 
home,  Molly,  while  this  nightmare  is  hanging 
over  you.  I'll  drive  over  to-morrow  and  have 
it  out  with  Mrs.  Delaney,  and  if  she  won't  hear 
reason  I'll  keep  you  here  permanently.  After 
all,  your  views,  or  your  prejudices  if  they  like  to 
call  them  so,  are  entitled  to  some  consideration 
in  your  own  home." 

"  Thanks,  dear,  but  it  wouldn't  do  an  atom  of 
good.  I'm  only  a  baby  there  unless  there  is 
something  to  do  or  contrive  or  to  manage. 
Then  I  might  be  fifty." 

"  But  you  can't  fight  your  battle  single 
handed,"  replied  Kate.  "  When  is  your  uncle 
coming  home?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  He  talks  of  it  in  every  letter. 
He  says  he  means  to  come  directly  this  war  will 
let  him." 

"  But  your  uncle  is  his  own  master,"  urged 
Kate.  "  He's  a  rich  man,  isn't  he?  " 

"  I  suppose  so,"  replied  Molly,   "  at  least — 

yes — he  must  be.     He  owns  a  gold  mine  in 

California  you  know,  and  he's  always  sending 

us  home  things.     He  sent  me  fifty  pounds  to 

46 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

buy  my  dress  when  I  was  presented,  and  he 
sent  Bob  fifty  at  the  same  time — on  general  prin- 
ciples he  said,  ajnd  he  gave  me  a  pendant — I 
shall  wear  it  at  dinner,  its  a  specimen  out  of  one 
of  his  own  mines." 

"Indeed,"  remarked  Kate.  "I  shall  have 
to  cultivate  your  uncle  Gerald.  But  why  can't 
he  come  home  and  fight  his  pretty  niece's 
battles?  " 

"  Because  he's  in  China,  looking  on  at  other 
people's,"  laughed  Molly.  "He's  reporting 
the  war  for  his  newspaper.  He  began  life  as 
a  journalist,  and  likes  it." 

"  Well,  I  think  he's  wanted  here "  began 

Kate,  and  Molly  broke  in  with  a  fervent, 
"  You'll  never  know  how  much  !  " 

"  And  till  he  comes  I'll  try  to  take  his  place," 
resumed  Miss  Fetherstone,  "for  I  won't  see 
my  particular  pet  put  upon  !  What  a  lot  of 
p's,"  she  laughed,  "  they  ought  to  make  my 
mouth  quite  a  beautiful  shape.  Now  there's  the 
dressing  gong,  so  run  along  dear,  and  mind  you 
wear  Uncle  Gerald's  pendant.  I  particularly 
want  to  see  if." 

Dismissing  Molly  with  a  kiss,  she  turned  to 
Mrs.  Purvis. 

"  Things  are  going  headlong  to  ruin  at  Lis- 
carrick,  I  wish  that  Uncle  of  hers  were  here !  " 

To  which  Mrs.  Purvis  replied. 

"  My  dear  Kate,  everyone's  trouble  is  your 
trouble,  and  you  mustn't  go  worrying  yourself 
into  fiddlestrings  over  this,  for  there's  nothing 
on  earth  you  can  do." 

"  Well,  at  any  rate,  Molly  won't  have  to  sit 

47 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

down  to  table  with  Mr.  O'Hara  to-morrow,  since 
she  loathes  the  very  thought  of  it — and  that's 
something  anyhow." 

With  which   parting  shot   Kate   Fethersto-ie 
went  to  dress  for  dinner. 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE  SQUIREEN  CONSULTS  His  SOLICITOR. 

SEVERAL  months  had  elapsed  since  Molly's 
escapade  before  Gerald  found  time  to  visit 
Ireland,  and  during  the  long  summer  her  yearn- 
ing for  his  return  became  almost  pathetic.  She 
no  longer  rebelled,  or  only  at  infrequent 
intervals — but  accepted  O'Hara's  growing  in- 
timacy at  Liscarrick  with  sullen  resignation. 
She  disliked  and  dreaded  the  man  more,  if  pos- 
sible, than  ever,  but  she  set  her  teeth  in  the 
determination  to  endure,  comforting  herself  by 
muttering,  when  tried  over  much,  "Wait  till 
Uncle  Gerald  comes." 

Bob,  too,  looked  forward  to  his  uncle's 
arrival  with  similar  earnestness,  but  for  different 
reasons.  Though  of  late  he  had  seen  more  of 
Mat  O'Hara  than  ever,  the  two  were  no  longer 
on  quite  the  friendly  terms  of  old.  "The  little 
harse,"  as  Mat  affectionately  styled  their  joint 
purchase,  so  far  from  proving  a  bond  of  union, 
threatened  to  turn  into  the  equine  equivalent  of 
an  apple  of  discord.  Each  of  the  partners  held 
his  own  views  on  matters  of  diet  and  of  exercise, 
and  they  held  them  strongly. 

By  mutual  consent  the  animal  was  kept  at 
Liscarrick,  where  better  exercising  ground  and 
more  commodious  loose  boxes  were  available; 

49 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

at  least  so  Bob  urged,  and  his  partner  ac- 
quiesced, reflecting  that  the  more  plausible  the 
excuse  for  his  frequent  visits,  the  better  for  his 
purpose,  and  frequent  and  more  frequent  these 
visits  grew.  Did  the  hounds  meet  anywhere  in 
the  neighbourhood,  O'Hara  dropped  in  to  tea. 
Was  it  a  non-hunting  day,  he  walked  or  rode 
over  to  see  "the  little  harse,"  and  often  re- 
mained to  lunch.  Molly,  all  her  prickles  out 
like  a  defensive  hedgehog,  scarce  ever  could  be 
induced  to  give  him  a  civil  word,  and  bided  her 
time.  Mrs.  Delaney  was  much  more  gracious. 
Her's  was  one  of  those  natures  which  crave 
attention  and  flattery,  and  of  the  latter  the 
Squireen  was  no  niggard.  Its  quality,  to  be 
sure,  was  coarse,  but  its  supply  was  inexhaus- 
tible, and  to  Mrs.  Delaney  this  meant  much. 

During  his  visits  to  Liscarrick,  too,  he  was 
always  careful  to  be  on  his  best  behaviour.  The 
whisky  bottle,  it  is  true,  was  always  produced, 
and  ebbed  fast  under  his  attentions,  for  Mat  was 
no  tea  drinker,  but  he  was  a  seasoned  toper  in 
whose  manners  and  appearance  a  few  glasses 
made  no  perceptible  difference,  and  Mrs. 
Delaney  was  far  from  regarding  him  as  a  hard 
drinking  man. 

People  began  to  gossip,  and  the  talk  went 
round  that  Mat  O'Hara,  of  Ballintubber,  was 
courting  Miss  Molly  Delaney.  Hints  and  in- 
nuendoes soon  reached  the  ears  of  the  young 
lady  concerned,  and  did  not  tend  to  diminish 
her  distaste  for  her  rustic  wooer.  For  gossip 
was  right  for  once,  and  O'Hara  first  sought  an 
introduction  to  Liscarrick  with  the  fixed  inten- 
se 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

tion  of  wooing,  and  if  possible  winning  the 
daughter  of  the  house.  Nor  would  the  girl's 
uncompromising  hostility  have  turned  him  from 
his  purpose,  for  Mat  was  not  easily  daunted, 
but  he  was  prudent  as  well  as  ambitious. 

O'Hara  passed  for  a  rich  man,  but  he  knew 
better.  He  was  spending  his  capital,  and 
Uncle  Con's  snug  legacy  was  dwindling  daily. 
He  was  as  firmly  resolved  as  ever  to  achieve 
position  by  marriage,  but  might  it  not  be  pos- 
sible to  achieve  fortune  at  the  same  time  ?  He 
thought  the  thing  feasible,  and  feflected.  For 
one  brief  moment  a  dazzling  vision  of  Miss 
Fetherstone,  and  her  unnumbered  thousands 
danced  before  him,  only  to  be  dismissed  as  im- 
possible. He  had  met  the  ladies  from  the 
Priory  more  than  once  at  Liscarrick,  and  he 
winced,  albeit  not  thin  skinned,  at  the  remem- 
brance of  the  cool,  cutting  phrases  wherewith 
Miss  Fetherstone  had  more  than  once  put  him  in 
his  place  when  his  familiarity  grew  too  aggres- 
sive. Poor  Molly's  wrath  was  a  bludgeon,  and 
easily  parried.  Kate's  contempt  was  a  rapier 
which  cut  to  the  bone.  In  attempting  such  a 
fortress  he  would  suffer  too  much,  and  even  his 
vanity  could  not  persuade  him  that  he  had  the 
forlornest  hope  of  success. 

"  But  I  can't  go  on  wasting  me  time,"  he 
pondered;  "and  Uncle  Con's  money  won't  last 
forever." 

As  his  unassisted  musings  seemed  unlikely  to 
carry  him  further,  he  drained  his  glass,  ordered 
his  hack,  and  cantered  into  Drine  to  spend  "  the 
shank  of  the  evening  "  with  'Torney  McMaster. 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

Dry,  wizened,  and  shrewd,  a  Scotch  Irishman 
from  the  North,  Alexander  McMaster  loved  no- 
thing on  earth  so  well  as  his  bank  account,  and 
took  an  interest  in  O'Hara  and  his  affairs  partly 
because  he  had  done  well  out  of  them  in  the 
past,  but  chiefly  because  he  hoped  to  do  better 
out  of  them  in  the  future.  He  was  ready  of 
tongue,  as  quick  to  pounce  on  an  advantage  as  a 
terrier  on  a  rat,  and  he  hated  the  Delaneys  with 
all  his  'heart,  not  only  because  they  were  poor, 
but  because  he  more  than  suspected  that  they 
looked  down  contemptuously  on  the  country 
attorney  from  the  serene  heights  of  their  county 
position. 

O'Hara  had  always  been  careful  to  conceal 
from  the  attorney,  as  from  everyone  else,  his 
increasingly  precarious  financial  position. 

"That  bond  of  Bob  Delaney's,"  said  Mat, 
crushing  a  refractory  lump  of  sugar  in  his 
tumbler,  "  it'll  be  due— when  ?  " 

He  had  called  ostensibly  on  This  business, 
meaning  to  lead  the  conversation  toward  a  more 
delicate  topic  as  soon  as  he  felt  sufficiently 
primed. 

"In  another  three  weeks,"  answered  the 
lawyer.  "  What  do  you  mean  to  do?  " 

"  Renew,  I  suppose.  What  else  is  there  for 
it?  You  can't  get  blood  out  of  a  stone." 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that.  There's  a  limited 
amount  of  blood  to  be  got  out  of  most  stones  if 
you  don't  mind  crushing  them.  Liscarrick  is 
not  entailed;  the  estate's  dipped  to  the  eyes, 
but  I  should  think  the  equity  of  redemption 
5? 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

would  fetch  a  thousand  or  two,  even  under  a 
forced  sale." 

"Sell  up  Liscarrick!  An  ould  place  like 
that!  I  couldn't  do  it,  Mac,  an'  that's  the 
truth!" 

"Well,  Mat,  you  know  best.  Only  I  can't 
see  the  object  of  taking  the  bond  if  you  were  not 
prepared  to  enforce  it." 

"  There's  another  thing,"  said  O'Hara  slowly. 
"I'd  still  be  out  eight  hundred  on  the  deal  even 
if  Bob  paid  me.  I'm  getting  out  of  consate  wid 
the  little  harse.  Bob  has  him  at  Liscarrick,  and 
he  doesn't  know  how  to  handle  him.  He  thinks 
he's  doin'  the  divil  an'  all,  but  he  knows  more 
about  plough  harses  nor  he  does  about  blood 
stock." 

"Well,  what  would  you  propose  to  do?" 
asked  McMaster. 

"  Look  here!  I  don't  want  to  sell  Bob  up  for 
reasons  I'll  tell'  ye  afore  I  say  good  night.  But 
there's  more  ways  of  killing  a  dog  than  choking 
him  with  butther.  He  has  a  rich  uncle  in 
foreign  parts,  hasn't  he?  " 

"I'm  afraid,  Mat,"  replied  the  attorney  with 
a  dry  chuckle,  "  that  it  won't  do  to  depend  on 
all  foreign  and  colonial  uncles  showing  the  con- 
sideration that  yours  did,  and  dying  just  in  the 
nick  of  time  to  discharge  the  liabilities  of  an 
embarrassed  nephew." 

"  Ye're  damned  funny,  ain't  ye,  Mr.  Mc- 
Master," snarled  O'Hara,  who  much  disliked 
these  references  to  the  source  of  his  fortune, 
"but  there's  been  such  a  thing  heard  of  as  a 
rich  millionaire  sportin'  a  thrifle  sooner  nor  see 
53 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

his  ould  family  seat  brought  to  the  hammer." 

"Such  things  have  been,"  said  the  lawyer 
cautiously,  "  but  sentiment's  not  a  very  safe 
thing  to  reckon  on ;  it's  no  security  in  law.  Still 
in  this  case,  and  from  what  I  know  of  the  over- 
weening pride  of  these  Delaneys,  it  may  answer. 
So  you  wish  me  to  renew?  " 

"More  nor  that,"  shouted  Mat  eagerly. 
"  Here's  my  idea.  Let  him  renew  for  another 
few  months — give  me  a  new  bond  for  the  whole 
sixteen  hundred,  adding  the  interest  due,  and 
I'll  sell  him  the  whole  harse,  lock,  stock  and 
barrel,  an'  let  him  get  up  on  him  and  ride  him 
to  the  divil  his  own  way." 

"H'm,"  mused  the  attorney.  "Trusting  to 
the  Californian  uncle  to  take  up  the  bond  at 
maturity?  " 

"  He'll  do  it,"  cried  O'Hara  eagerly.  "  I 
know  the  store  they  all  set  by  the  ould  place,  an* 
what's  sixteen  hundred  pounds  to  the  likes  of 
him,  wid  his  goold  mines  an'  his  newspapers 
an'  the  divil  knows  what  else  besides.  An'  he's 
coming  home  this  year.  They  do  be  talking  of 
it  all  the  time  up  at  the  big  house.  They  don't 
know  the  day  he  may  walk  in." 

"  Well,  I'm  only  here  to  follow  your  instruc- 
tions, Mr.  O'Hara,"  said  the  lawyer  formally. 
"  It's  your  speculation,  not  mine.  By  the  way, 
will  the  young  man  be  willing  to  purchase  your 
interest  on  those  terms,  and  give  his  bond  for 
the  increased  amount?  " 

.  "  Will  a  duck  swim?  "  answered  Mat  with  a 
prodigious  wink.     "  He'd  be  willing  to  do  any- 
thing for  anyone  who  wouldn't  ax  him  to  put 
54 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

his  hand  in  his  empty  pocket,  and  he'd  give  the 
eyes  out  of  his  head  to  call  the  little  harse  his 
own,  out  an'  out." 

"Very  good!  Bring  the  young  man  to  my 
office  any  day  during  the  next  three  weeks,  and 
if  he's  agreeable  the  matter  can  be  settled  off- 
hand." 

'"  Now,  Mac,"  said  O'Hara,  the  business  of 
the  bond  thus  dismissed,  "  if  there's  another 
sup  in  that  decanter  I'll  just  fix  meself  a  dock-a- 
dorrich,  an'  explain  to  you  the  reason  why  I 
don't  want  to  be  too  hard  on  Bob  Delaney  just 
now,  or  on  anyone  of  the  name." 

"  It's  like  this,"  he  went  on,  when  he  had 
mixed  the  ingredients  to  his  satisfaction.  "  I 
think  the  widow  Delaney  has  a  very  kindly  feel- 
ing towards  yours  truly." 

He  lay  back  in  his  chair  and  smiled  broadly 
in  the  attorney's  face.  The  latter  stared.  He 
began  to  think  the  punch  was  affecting  his 
client's  brain. 

"  And  is  it  on  that  account  that  you  are  pre- 
pared to  forego  your  security  for  a  debt  of  eight 
hundred  pounds? " 

"Not  altogether.  Tell  me,  Mac,  for  you 
must  know,  what's  the  widow's  jointure?" 

"Seven  hundred  a  year;  that's  one  of  the 
charges  on  the  place,  and  lucky  for  them  she 
has  it,  for  very  little  else  have  they  to  live  on." 

"An'  its  not  forfeit  if  she  married  agen  ?  " 
asked  Mat  anxiously. 

"  Not  that  I  know  of — no,  I  may  say  I  know 
it  is  not,"  replied  McMaster. 

"Then,"  said  the  Squireen,  bringing  his 
55 


WHERE   THE  SHAMROCK   GROWS 

face  close  to  McMaster's,  "  I  think  it's  high  time 
she  was  choosing  her  second  husband,  and  when 
I  tell  her  so,  I  think  you'll  find  she'll  agree 
with  me!  " 

"Oh!"  was  all  the  attorney  said,  but  his 
opinion  of  his  client  rose  several  degrees  from 
that  moment. 

"An*  now,"  said  O'Hara,  "if  you'll  just  ring 
an'  tell  Darby  to  fetch  round  me  pony,  I  think 
I'll  be  toddling.  Just  one  parting  glass  afore  1 
go,  Mac,  an'  I'll  give  you  a  toast." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  the  attorney,  as  he 
filled  the  tumblers. 

"Speed  the  wooing,"  cried  O'Hara,  then, 
'draining  his  glass  he  clapped  his  hat  on  his 
head,  shook  hands  with  McMaster,  and  lurched 
out  of  the  room. 


CHAPTER   VI. 
BOB  DELANEY'S  THOROUGHBRED. 

"THERE,  uncle  mine,"  cried  Bob,  as  he  flung 
open  the  door  of  his  best  loose  box  and  stood  in 
his  horsiest  attitude,  chewing  a  straw  as  if  to 
the  manner  born,  "There,  uncle,  that's  the 
thoroughbred." 

Gerald  had  heard  much  of  this  animal  since 
his  arrival.  For  several  days  he  had  not  been 
allowed  to  inspect  him,  Bob  averring  that  "  he 
was  not  looking  his  best,"  but  to-day,  Molly  and 
Jack  having  started  after  breakfast  for  a  long 
ramble,  the  young  master  of  Liscarrick  could 
no  longer  restrain  his  impatience,  but  carried 
his  uncle  off  to  the  stables. 

"Thoroughbred,  eh?"  commented  Gerald, 
after  he  had  surveyed  the  equine  prodigy  for 
some  moments  in  silence.  "  They  never  were 
much  in  my  line,  and  my  stable  lore  has  grown 
a  trifle  rusty  of  late  years,  but  I  certainly  think 
he's  a  slashing  fine  youngster." 

"  Isn't  he?  "  cried  the  other  enthusiastically. 
"  Look  at  those  quarters.  I  wish  you  saw  him 
gallop.  Such  action.  And  look  at  the  hoof  of 
him.  Hard  as  a  pebble  and  clean  as  a  whistle. 
Never  fear,"  he  added  as  he  dodged  a  playful 
kick,  "  there's  not  a  particle  of  vice  in 
57 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

his    composition;    it's    only    high    spirits." 

Gerald,  having  paid  the  colt  the  expected 
compliments,  strolled  with  his  companion 
across  the  dilapidated  yard  and  out  into  the  neg- 
lected home  farm.  He  saw  all  around  him 
evidences  of  unthrift,  the  slow  ravages  of 
eighteen  years  all  unrepaired,  and  his  heart 
grew  heavy  for  Liscarrick. 

"What  do  you  call  him?"  he  asked  pre- 
sently, reverting  to  the  horse. 

"I've  christened  him  'Liscarrick,'  after  the 
old  place,"  replied  Bob.  "Good  name,  I 
think." 

"  I  hope  he'll  keep  in  better  condition  than  his 
namesake,  then.  Everything  seems  going  to 
rack  and  ruin  here." 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  replied  Bob,  rather  sulkily. 
"  I'm  no  farmer." 

"So  I  should  judge,"  responded  the  other 
dryly,  and  they  fell  silent  again. 

Presently,  Gerald's  train  of  thought  brought 
him  face  to  face  with  a  problem  which  demanded 
solution. 

"Say,"  he  said  suddenly,  "  How"  did  you 
come  by  that  bit  of  horseflesh,  anyhow?  He 
must  have  stood  you  a  longish  price." 

"Sixteen  hundred,"  answered  Bob,  who  had 
been  waiting  for  and  rather  dreading  this  ques- 
tion. 

"Sixteen  hundred,"  echoed  Gerald,  "and 
where,  may  I  ask,  did  you  raise  sixteen  hundred 
pounds?" 

The  two  men  had  halted  and  were  facing  each 
other.  Bob  waxed  deprecatory  and  explanatory, 
58 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"You  see  the  deal  came  about  in  a  rather 
funny  way.  I  didn't  go  into  it  alone.  I  only 
took  half." 

"Then  this  is  the  horse  deal  you  went  Into 
with  Mat  O'Hara.  I  don't  care  for  your  part- 
ner, but  the  liability  is  less.  Still  I  congratu- 
late you  on  having  eight  hundred  pounds  to 
sport  in  a  flutter  like  this." 

"You  don't  understand,  Uncle  Gerald.  I 
didn't  have  to  put  up  a  cent.  Mat  found  the 
money." 

"  And  let  you  in  on  the  ground  floor  for  no- 
thing!" sneered  Gerald.  "  Upon  my  word,  I 
hadn't  given  Mr.  O'Hara  credit  for  such  gener- 
osity." 

"Hang  it  all,  don't  bait  a  fellow,"  growled 
Bob,  uneasily.  "  Here,  I'll  tell  you  all  about 
it.  I  gave  Mr.  O'Hara  notes  for  the  money,  of 
course, — eight  hundred  first  of  all,  and  then  six- 
teen hundred  afterwards.  Sixteen  hundred  in 
all,  I  mean.  We  differed  about  the  horse — the 
feeding  and  training,  and  so  forth.  He's  an 
ignorant  beggar,  though  he  thinks  he  knows  it 
all.  Well  we  agreed  to  split  the  partnership, 
buy  or  sell ;  we  tossed  up  for  it,  and  it  fell  to  me 
to  buy,  and  I'm  jolly  glad  of  it,  for  it's  a  thun- 
dering good  investment." 

"  I  hope  it  may  prove  so,"  commented  Gerald 
dryly. 

"  It's  bound  to.  You've  no  idea  how  the  colt 
has  come  on  since  I've  had  him.  He'd  fetch 
two  thousand  anywhere,  to-morrow!" 

"  Then,  if  I  were  you,  I'd  sell  him  to-morrow." 

"Not  me,"  cried  Bob.    "Do  look  at  the  matter 

59 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

sensibly,  uncle.  He'll  come  out  in  the  spring 
as  a  three  year  old.  He's  splendidly  engaged. 
Wait  till  he's  won  a  race  or  two,  and  he'll  be 
worth  double  the  money." 

"  Supposing  he  loses  a  race  or  two  instead  ?  " 

"  He  can't.  Look  at  his  pedigree.  He's 
by " 

"  Don't  bother  me  with  pedigrees,"  exclaimed 
Gerald,  irritably,  "  I  know  nothing  about  your 
sires  and  dams,  and  care  less.  WThat  you 
ought  to  bend  your  mighty  intellect  to  is — how 
are  you  going  to  take  up  these  notes.  When  are 
they  due?  "  he  asked  abruptly. 

"Very  shortly  now,"  said  Bob  soberly,  "in 
a  couple  of  weeks,  I  believe,  but  the  under- 
standing was " 

"  I  know  all  about  these  understandings.  All 
that  O'Hara  will  understand  is  that  his  money 
is  due,  and  he'll  see  that  he  gets  it." 

"  He'll  renew,"  asserted  the  sanguine  nephew. 

"Will  he?  I'm  much  mistaken  in  the  man 
if  he  does,"  retorted  the  more  experienced  uncle. 
"He  found  himself  let  into  a  bad  speculation 
with  a  young  fool  for  a  partner,  and  like  a  smart 
man  wriggled  out  of  the  trap.  But  I'll  bet  he's 
not  going  to  leave  any  feathers  in  it  if  he  can 
help  it." 

"  Nonsense,  uncle,  he  was  readier  to  buy  than 
to  sell.  We  tossed  up  for  it,  and  he  lost." 

"  Pshaw  I  You  make  me  tired !  "  said  Gerald 
contemptuously.  Then  in  a  more  conciliatory 
tone  he  went  on.  "Well,  you're  young;  that's 
your  only  excuse.  I  suppose  that  you  couldn't 
raise  sixteen  hundred  anywhere?" 
60 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"Look  here,  uncle  Gerald,"  said  Bob,  'draw- 
ing a  long  breath  and  blurting  out  his  proposi- 
tion headlong  fashion  as  he  would  have  ridden 
at  a  big  fence  there  was  no  avoiding.  "  Couldn't 
you  take  over  this  debt  and  settle  with  him. 
I'd  pay  you  back  out  of  Liscarrick's  first  win- 
nings." 

Gerald  regarded  the  speaker  with  amazement. 
"  And  where  do  you  suppose  I'd  get  sixteen 
hundred  pounds?  " 

"  Where?"  echoed  Bob,  equally  astonished. 
"Why,  you're  a  millionaire,  aren't  you?" 

"I,  a  millionaire!"  cried  Gerald.  "My 
dear  boy,  barring  a  few  pounds  at  my  bankers, 
I've  nothing  between  me  and  the  poorhouse  but 
my  salary.  What  put  such  a  ridiculous  notion 
into  your  head?  " 

"  Everyone  thinks  so.  You  said  yourself  you 
were  doing  so  well  lately." 

"  So  I  have  or  I  couldn't  have  come  home. 
That  was  the  war.  A  man  that's  earning  twelve 
or  fifteen  pounds  a  week  and  has  his  salary 
suddenly  jumped  to  thirty-five  may  be  forgiven 
if  he  thinks  he  is  doing  well." 

Bob's  countenance  had  fallen  lower  and  lower 
with  every  word  his  uncle  uttered. 

"  And  I've  been  counting  so  on  you,"  he  com- 
plained. "  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  haven't 
got  anything?  What  about  that  gold  mine  of 
yours  ?  Is  that  a  flam  too  ?  " 

"  There  has  been  no  flam  about  me,"  answered 
•the  other  angrily,  "except  what  you  have  been 
pleased  to  imagine  for  yourself.  I  make  my 
own  living,  and  don't  owe  a  cent,  in  the  world, 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

I  wish  to  the  Lord  as  much  could  be  said  of 
you." 

"There's  no  gold  mine  then,"  said  Bob  in  a 
more  subdued  tone.  "I'm  sure  you  said  some- 
thing of  the  kind  in  some  of  your  letters,  all 
the  same." 

"  I  did  speak  of  a  gold  mine  when  I  was  send- 
ing Molly  a  specimen,  but  it  was  more  as  a 
joke  than  anything  else.  I'll  show  you  the 
share  certificates  when  we  go  in.  I  do  own  the 
greater  part  of  a  mine,  but  I'm  not  so  sure  about 
the  gold." 

"Isn't  it  worth  anything?"  inquired  Bob 
anxiously. 

"At  the  present  it's — well — undeveloped," 
replied  his  uncle  smiling  slightly.  T<  I  took 
the  shares — it  was  all  I  could  lay  hands  on — in 
satisfaction  for  arrears  of  salary  when  the  '  Daily 
Broker  '  went  smash.  I  don't  think  the  stuff 
was  of  much  value  or  I  shouldn't  have  got  it." 

"Pity,"  observed  Bob.  "'Gold  mine' 
sounds  so  well." 

"  It  may  here,  it  doesn't  in  California. 
They're  too  much  fed  up  with  this  kind  of 
thing." 

Gerald  hunted  through  his  pocket  book  till 
he  found  a  somewhat  soiled  newspaper  clipping, 
which  he  handed  to  his  nephew.  Bob  took  it 
eagerly  and  read : 

"  Golden   Horseshoe  Mine.     Surface   indi- 

"  cations  are  extraordinarily  rich,  and  if  the 

"  vein  proves  equal  to  the  outcroppings,  there 

"  ought  to  be  a  million  dollars  taken  out  in 

"the  next  six  months." 
62 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

He  looked  up. 

"  Is  that  your  mine?  Well,  if  it  is,  all  I  can 
say  is  that  it  reads  bang  up." 

"So  it  ought,"  replied  Gerald,  laughing, 
"considering  I  wrote  it  myself,  and  printers' 
ink  comes  cheap  to  the  trade." 

"You  can't  help  me  out  then,"  pleaded  Bob 
so  wistfully  that  his  uncle  felt  sorry  for  the 
boy.  "  I  believe  O'Hara  would  renew  if  you'd 
put  your  name  on  the  bill.  Anyhow,  if  you'll 
let  me  I'll  sound  McMaster." 

"  Do  you  mean  the  attorney?  "  asked  Gerald, 
looking  up  quickly.  "  Surely  the  matter  hasn't 
passed  into  his  hands?  " 

"Well,  the  notes  were  signed  at  his  place, 
and  O'Hara  goes  a  good  deal  by  his  advice. 
May  I  see  him,  and  say  you'll  back  the  bill?" 

"  I  don't  see  what  value  my  name  would  have 
on  a  bill  to  that  amount,"  objected  Gerald, 
"still,  if  they've  any  fancy  for  my  autograph, 
and  consider  it  will  .increase  their  security,  I'll 
go  that  far." 

"You're  a  brick,  uncle.  You'll  see  it  will 
come  all  right." 

"But  mind,"  insisted  Gerald,  "no  sailing 
under  false  colours.  Don't  you  go  to  Mc- 
Master with  any  fairy  tales  about  your  million- 
aire uncle.  In  the  first  place  it  wouldn't  have 
the  least  effect  on  him,  he  wouldn't  believe  you; 
and  in  the  second  place,  I  won't  have  it." 

"  I  won't  say  a  word  I  oughtn't,"  promised 
Bob.  "  Only  I  shan't  lead  off  by  saying  you're 
only  on  salary.  He  thinks  you're  very  rich; 
everyone  does.  Let  him  keep  on  thinking  so. 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

You  needn't  go  out  of  your  way  to  enlighten 
him,  need  you?  " 

11 1  certainly  shan't  go  about  the  place  pro- 
claiming myself  a  pauper,"  answered  Gerald, 
"but  if  I'm  asked  any  questions  I  shan't  tell 
any  lies.  I  am  pretty  well  persuaded  you've 
been  had  in  this  deal,  and  if  I  can  pull  you  out ; 
of  the  hole  I  will.  After  all,"  he  mused,  "  there 
can  be  no  great  risk.  The  horse  ought  to  be 
security  for  a  good  bit  of  the  money." 

"  For  double  the  money,"  shouted  Bob  en- 
thusiastically, his  spirits  quite  restored.  "  And 
don't  forget;  you  promised  to  le!  me  see  those 
mining  cerificates." 

"  Come  up  to  my  room,  and  you  can  have 
a  look  at  them  now." 

"  All  right,  it  isn't  very  enticing  round  here," 
assented  the  boy.  "  Now  you've  seen  Liscar- 
rick  there  isn't  anything  else  worth  looking  at. 
And  oh^  uncle  mine,  remember  it's  very  impor- 
tant that  you  shouldn't  go  upsetting  precon- 
ceived opinions.  Nothing  people  hate  like  that. 
They're  quite  sure  you're  a  Yankee  millionaire. 
Don't  go  disappointing  them." 

•"  Not  unless  I'm  asked  the  question,  and 
asked  by  someone  I  consider  entitled  to  an 
answer." 

"By  McMaster,  for  instance,"  ventured  Bob. 

11  If  I  put  my  name  on  that  paper  of  yours, 
yes,"  assented  his  uncle,  "decidedly  McMaster 
would  be  entitled  to  the  truth,  and  so  would 
O'Hara." 

"  I  see,"  sighed  the  nephew,  "  I  can't  imagine 
where  some  people  get  so  many  silly,   incon- 
64 


'WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

venienf  scruples.  Never  mind,  uncle,"  he  con- 
tinued, brightening  up,  "I  regard  all  that  you 
have  told  me  as  strictly  confidential,  and  you 
may  rely  on  it  I  shan't  give  you  away.1' 

Gerald,  albeit  much  disquieted  at  what  he  had 
,heard,  could  not  refrain  from  laughing  as  he  led 
the  way  into  the  house. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

A  SHADOW  FALLS  ON  LISCARRICK. 

"SAY,  old  fellow,"  remarked  Jack  Whalen,  as 
he  strolled  with  Gerald  along  the  shrubbery 
path  one  Sunday  morning  a  few  weeks  after 
their  arrival  at  Liscarrick,  "  do  you  know, 
you've  got  a  mighty  charming  little  girl  for  a 
niece  here?" 

"  I  think  I  have,"  answered  Gerald,  regarding 
the  speaker  curiously. 

"I've  been  studying  her  a  good  deal,"  went 
on  Jack,  looking  about  for  a  suitable  grass 
blade  to  thrust  through  the  stem  of  his  pipe. 

"So  I  have  observed,"  remarked  Gerald, 
puffing  away  contentedly. 

"You  can't  help  observing  her,"  rejoined 
Jack,  purposely  ignoring  the  other's  meaning, 
"confound  it,  is  there  anything  so  irritating  as 
a  pipe  that  won't  draw?  What  was  I  saying — 
oh,  yes.  I  have  been  observing  your  little  niece, 
and  I  don't  think  she  is  happy  at  home." 

"  Indeed,"  replied  Gerald,  "  I'm  sorry  to  hear 
that." 

For  some  days  he  had  watched  with  interest 
and  secret  approval  the  growing  pleasure  which 
Molly  and  Jack  seemed  to  take  in  each  other's 
society.  It  would  do  very  well,  he  thought. 
Jack,  a  young  fellow  with  his  foot  well  on  the 
ladder,  and  endowed  with  his  full  share  of 

66 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

brains  and  energy;  Molly,  a  pretfy,  intelligent, 
sweet-natured  girl,  and  a  ve'ry  capable  little 
housewife  as  he  had  not  failed  to  observe.  Jack's 
opening  remarks  seemed  to  hint  at  possible 
confidences,  though  it  was  certainly  early  days 
for  a  declaration. 

"  Yes,"  the  younger  man  continued,  filling  the 
pipe  whose  initial  obstinacy  he  had  at  length 
overcome,  "  I  don't  think  she's  at  all  happy  in 
Her  present  surroundings,  and  I'm  afraid  they 
are  more  likely  to  change  for  the  worse  than  for 
the  better." 

Gerald  stared.  "  What  on  earth"  do  you 
mean  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Well,  it's  not  an  easy  thing  to  put  into 
words  if  you  haven't  noticed  it  yourself.  You 
may  or  you  may  not  have  done  so.  I  have, 
and  I  am  not  the  only  one.  Molly  and  I  have 
been  talking  it  over " 

"  Eh  ?  "  interrupted  Gerald  with  a  broad  grin. 
He  regarded  that  Christian  name  as  an  admis- 
sion. But  his  friend  went  on,  quite  unembar- 
rassed. 

"  Molly — Miss  Delaney;  your  niece,  you 
know.  She  and  I  have  been  talking  if  over. 
You  must  have  seen  for  yourself  how  incess- 
antly that  outrageous  squireen  is  here.  Have 
you  got  on  to  his  manner  to  your  sister-in-law?" 

Gerald  was  thunderstruck.  Preoccupied  by 
his  efforts  to  straighten  out  Bob's  difficulties, 
he  had  been  less  observant  than  usual.  But 
now  a  thousand  trifles,  unnoticed  at  the  time, 
occurred  to  him.  He  tried  to  reply  lightly,  but 
his  thoughts  were  busy. 
67 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"  I  never  noticed  that  he  had  any  manners 
at  all." 

"'Probably  not,"  answered  Jack,  "but  he 
has;  a  certain  style  of  manners  quite  peculiarly 
his  own.  It's  no  laughing  matter,  old  fellow. 
In  his  breezy,  unconventional  way  O'Hara  is 
making  fierce  love  to  Mrs.  Delaney,  and  what 
is  worse,  she  seems  to  like  it." 

"Good  God!"  ejaculated  Gerald.  "That 
unspeakable  bounder!  Why  he  ought  to  be 
kicked  from  this  to " 

Then  he  fell  suddenly  silent.  Those  liabili- 
ties of  Bob's!  The  notes  fell  due  on  Wednes- 
day. He  knew  that  his  nephew  was  even  now 
negotiating  for  their  renewal.  It  rested  with 
O'Hara  either  to  hold  his  hand  or  to  turn  the 
breaching  artillery  of  the  law  on  the  last  frail 
defences  of  Liscarrick.  Clearly  this  was  a 
situation  to  be  tactfully  and  warily  dealt  with. 

But  of  this  Jack  knew  nothing.  He  merely 
filled  in  the  pause  in  his  own  way,  and  assented 
warmly. 

"  Yes,  he  ought  to  be  kicked  from  here  to 
hell,  and  you're  the  man  to  do  ft.  But  you 
can't  apply  the  same  treatment  to  your  sister-in 
law,  and  there  the  danger  lies." 

Before  Gerald  could  reply  they  were  joined  by 
Mrs.  Delaney  and  Molly,  and  he  had  no  oppor- 
tunity of  pursuing  the  subject  further.  But 
finding  there  was  half  an  hour  to  spare  before 
lunch,  he  carried  off  Molly  under  pretence  of 
exhibiting  some  pigs  which  formed  the  latest 
addition  to  the  Liscarrick  live  stock. 

Young  as  she  was,  Gerald  had  far  more  con- 
68 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

fidence  in  his  niece's  good  sense  and  discretion 
than  he  entertained  for  his  nephew's,  and  in- 
stinctively it  was  to  her  he  turned  for  light  on 
this  new  trouble,  and  possibly  for  advice. 

"  Molly,"  he  began  abruptly  as  soon  as  they 
were  alone,  "what  brings  Mat  O'Hara  round  the 
place  so  much?  " 

"  Don't  think  it's  me,  uncle,"  replied  the  girl 
eagerly.  "There  were  all  kinds  of  horrid 
remarks  and  ill-natured  talk  about  his  making 
up  to  me,  but  I  always  loathed  the  beast." 

"  I  acquit  you,  my  dear;  anyone  can  see  how 
you  regard  him ;  but  the  question  remains — 
what  brings  him  here?  " 

"  Bob  brought  him  first.  I  ran  off  and  stayed 
three  days  with  Kate  Fetherstone  when  I  heard 
he  was  expected,  but  that  couldn't  last  for  ever. 
He  kept  coming  and  coming,  and  I  had  to  put 
up  with  it." 

"Yes,  and  he  keeps  on  coming,  but  what's 
the  attraction?"  asked  Gerald,  pointedly. 

Then  Molly  broke  down,  and  her  uncle  saw 
the  first  tears  he  had  detected  in  her  eyes  since 
she  had  wept  as  a  baby  over  a  broken  doll. 

"Oh,  uncle  Gerald;  it  sounds  dreadful,  and 
I'm  almost  ashamed  to  say  it,  but  I'm  afraid 
its  Mamma." 

"Don't  cry,  dear.  If  it's  so,  and  I  fear  it  is, 
it's  got  to  be  faced ;  and  you  and  I  are  the  only 
ones  to  face  it  so  far  as  I  can  see,"  replied 
Gerald,  beginning  bravely  but  ending  gloomily, 
as  difficulties,  of  which  Molly  knew  nothing, 
recurred  to  his  mind.  "  Have  you  any  idea 
how  your  mother  regards  him  ?  " 
69 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"Oh,  mamma's  such  a  fool!"  exclaimed 
Molly,  passionately.  "  She'll  listen  to  anyone 
who  will  pay  her  attention  enough,  and  talk 
drivel  about  her  eyes  and  figure." 

"  I  may  take  it  then  that  I  shan't  have  an  ally 
in  Emmie,"  said  Gerald  half  to  himself,  "  rather 
the  reverse  indeed.  Well,  we  must  do  without 
her." 

"There's  Bob,"  suggested  Molly,  but  not 
very  hopefully. 

"  I'm  afraid  we  can't  reckon  on  Bob,"  Gerald 
replied,  with  a  vivid  remembrance  of  the  notes 
due  on  Wednesday. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  urged  Molly.  "  He 
would  feel  it  in  other  ways.  I've  nothing  at 
all  you  know,  and  Bob — well,  there's  no  income 
from  Liscarrick  after  the  mortgage  interest  is 
paid — next  to  none  that  is.  We  are  all  living 
on  Mamma's  jointure." 

Gerald  gave  vent  to  a  prolonged  whistle. 
Things  certainly  looked  as  black  as  they  well 
could  do. 

"Well,  we  must  only  pull  together,  dear,  all 
three  of  us,  and  do  the  best  we  can.  I'll  think 
it  out,  and  we'll  have  another  palaver  soon. 
Come,  there's  the  luncheon  gong,  let's  go 
in." 

"I'm  so  glad  we've  had  this  talk,"  said 
Molly,  slipping  her  little  hand  through  her 
uncle's  arm,  and  giving  it  an  affectionate 
squeeze.  "  I  don't  feel  half  so  lonesome  and 
helpless  now." 

"  Do  you  know  who  first  put  me  on  the 
track?  "  asked  Gerald.  "  It  was  Jack  Whalen. 
70 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

You  and  he  have  been  laying  your  heads  to- 
gether over  this." 

"Yes,"  answered  Molly,  whose  cheeks 
blazed  suddenly  as  she  tried  to  withdraw  her 
arm.  "  He  noticed  how  things  were  going;  he 
said  he'd  speak  to  you.  Do  let  me  go,  uncle. 
I  must  wash  my  face  before  I  appear  at  lunch, 
or  everyone  will  see  I  have  been  crying." 

And  Molly  wrenched  herself  free,  and  ran  into 
the  house  without  glancing  back. 

"  Molly's  a  case,"  mused  Gerald,  looking  after 
her,  "and  so  is  Jack,  or  I'm  much  mistaken. 
Well,  that's  one  bright  spot,  anyhow,  in  a 
pretty  gloomy  vista." 

And  he  followed  her  indoors. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

THE  GOLDEN  HORSESHOE. 

MEANWHILE  the  pathway  of  the  youthful  Lord 
of  Liscarrick  had  been  strewn  with  anything 
but  roses.  His  uncle,  while  avowing  his  readi- 
ness to  extend  all  the  help  in  his  power,  was 
beset  by  scruples  which  seemed  to  Bob  artificial 
and  absurd.  Mr.  Gerald  Delaney  was  a  re- 
puted millionaire.  Then  why  not  devote  that 
reputation  to  the  extinction  of  his  nephew's 
debts,  than  which  said  nephew  could  conceive 
of  no  worthier  object?  Instead  of  this,  it  was 
with  difficulty  that  he  could  be  induced  to  re- 
frain from  publishing  his  impecuniosity  to  the 
world,  and  even  that  Concession  was  hedged  in 
with  all  sorts  of  conditions  and  exceptions. 

Bob  was  angry  with  everyone — with  Mat 
O'Hara  for  being  his  creditor,  with  his  uncle 
for  having  omitted  to  come  home  as  rich  as 
people  reasonably  expected  him  to  be;  with 
himself — though  this  was  barely  acknowledged 
— for  having  become  entangled  in  such  a  coil. 
'And  all  the  time  the  sands  were  running  out, 
the  weeks  were  slipping  away  With  magical 
rapidity,  and  the  day  of  reckoning  was  at  hand. 
Constitutionally  indolent  as  he  was,  and  disposed 
to  trust  implicitly  to  the  chapter  of  accidents, 
Bob  felt  that  something  must  be  done.  He 

73 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  uROWS 

slipped  the  certificates  of  the  Golden  Horse 
Shoe  mine  into  his  pocket  and  cantered  into 
Drine  to  interview  McMaster. 

Gerald  had  submitted  these  certificates,  ac- 
cording to  promise,  to  his  nephew's  inspection, 
and  the  latter  had  been  much  struck  by  their 
handsome  lithography  and  generally  imposing 
appearance.  There  were  four  certificates  for 
five  thousand  shares  each,  with  a  striking 
picture  of  the  Goddess  of  Liberty  in  one  corner 
and  of  a  miner  leaning  on  his  pick  in  another. 
There  was  also  a  reproduction  of  the  arms  of 
California,  and  certain  words  setting  forth  that 
the  company  was  incorporated  under  the  laws 
of  that  State  with  a  capital  of  ten  million 
dollars,  and  that  the  holder  was  the  owner  of  so 
many  fifty  dollar  shares. 

The  figures  appeared  to  represent  wealth 
almost  unimaginable  in  Western  Ireland,  and 
though  he  knew  that  his  uncle  regarded  the 
scrip  as  practically  valueless,  Bob  could  not 
bring  himself  to  believe  that  such  gorgeous 
blazonry  had  been  lavished  on  waste  paper. 
At  any  rate,  a  gold  mine  was  a  gold  mine,  he 
told  himself,  and  if  he  had  been  impressed  by 
the  magic  of  the  words,  why  not  O'Hara  and 
McMaster  ? 

On  this  day,  as  it  happened,  though  at  a 
somewhat  earlier  hour,  Mat  had  ridden  in  to 
consult  the  attorney  on  the  same  subject. 

"I've  no  information  to  give  you,"  the  latter 
told  him.  "  The  notes  are  due  on  Wednesday, 
as  you  know,  but  so  far  Master  Bob  has  neither 
called  nor  written." 

73 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"Is  the  uncle  going  to  take  them  up?" 
enquired  O'Hara  anxiously. 

"How  can  I  tell?  It  looks  like  it,  else  the 
other  wouldn't  be  taking  things  so  quietly." 

"  Begob,  I  hope  he  will.  Then  everything 
would  be  as  aisy  as  shelling  peas,"  remarked 
Mat. 

"Ah,  but  if  he  doesn't,"  suggested  the 
lawyer.  "  We  must  be  prepared  for  either 
event.  In  that  case,  am  I  to  let  the  paper  go  to 
protest?  " 

"  What  else?  "  assented  the  other. 

"And  then  proceed  to  sue  and  levy,"  con- 
tinued the  attorney,  his  eyes  glistening  at  the 
prospect  of  a  long  bill  of  costs. 

"  No,  begob,"  shouted  O'Hara,  "I'm  not 
going  to  risk  seven  hundred  a  year  on  the  chanst 
of  collecting  a  few  hundreds — more  betoken  a 
pretty  share  of  them  would  come  your  way. 
I've  had  a  bill  from  you  afore  now  'Torney  Mc- 
Master." 

"So  you  think  that  any  proceedings  you 
might  take  against  the  son  would  prejudice  your 
prospects  with  the  mother?"  commented  Mc- 
Master,  ignoring  the  taunt  in  the  other's  words. 

"  To  be  sure  I  do.  But  I  think  I've  a  good 
chanst  to  get  the  money,  and  the  widow  none 
the  wiser.  Put  the  screw  on  Bob  and  turn 
it  till  he  squeals.  Tell  him  if  the  money  isn't 
ped  to  the  day,  you'll  sell  the  roof  from  over 
his  head  and  the  flure  from  in  under  his  feet. 
Sweat  it  out  of  him,  Mac.  The  uncle  isn't 
going  to  let  that  happen.  We'll  get  the 
money." 

74 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"  I  hope  so,"  replied  the  attorney.  "  At  any 
rate,  I  have  your  clear  instructions  now,  and  I 
know  how  to  act.  And  even  if  he  doesn't  pay, 
and  you  are  averse  from  proceeding  to  the  last 
extremity,  you  can  easily  obtain  judgment  and 
distrain  on  the  horse." 

"  Take  the  beast  for  the  damage,  eh  ?  "  mused 
the  Squireen.  "  Well,  I'm  not  sweet  on  it. 
For  one  thing,  it  couldn't  be  kept  from  the  ould 
girl  above  at  Liscarrick,  and  though  I  think  I 
have  her  pretty  fond  of  me  by  this,  it  might  just 
set  her  agen  me.  Women  are  unrasonable  any- 
how. And  the  little  harse  isn't  what  he  was. 
I  misthrust  I  give  too  much  money  for  him  in 
the  first  place,  an'  Bob's  played  the  divil  wid 
him  since.  No,  just  put  the  screw  on ;  talk  all 
ye  like,  but  no  law  till  I've  been  to  church  wid 
the  widow." 

11  And  are  you  quite  satisfied  with  your  pro- 
gress in  that  direction?"  said  the  attorney, 
smiling. 

"  Ye  may  ordher  the  weddin'  present  any  day 
ye  plaze,"  answered  O'Hara  with  a  leer.  She's 
all  ripe  and  ready,  an'  I'll  pop  the  question  on 
the  first  convaynient  opportunity,  and  afther  she 
once  says  '  Yes  '  there'll  be  little  time  cut  to 
waste,  I  promise  ye.  Ye've  seen  me  take  many 
a  salmon  out  of  the  Corragh  afore  now.  An'  it 
isn't  often  one  gets  away,"  he  added  signifi- 
cantly. 

At  this  moment  the  clerk  knocked  at  the  door 
and  announced  Mr.  Robert  Delaney. 

It  was  an  unusually  sheepish  and  disconcerted 
Mr.  Robert  Delaney  who  entered  the  attorney's 

75 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

sanctum,  and  on  finding  that  the  Squireen  was 
there  before  him  he  was  visibly  taken  aback. 

Two  at  a  time  was  longer  odds  than  he  had 
bargained  for.  He  hung  a  moment,  hesitating, 
in  the  doorway. 

"  Come  in,  Mr.  Delaney,  come  In,"  cried  the 
attorney  briskly.  "I  have  been  expecting  to 
hear  from  you  any  day." 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  McMaster,"  said  Bob 
advancing.  "  Good  morning,  Mat,  how  goes 
it?" 

"  Mornin',  "  said  O'Hara  gruffly,  without 
offering  to  shake  hands.  And  he  turned  his  back 
and  appeared  to  be  admiring  the  dusty  engrav- 
ings on  the  walls. 

"  I  suppose  you've  called  in  reference  to  those 
notes  of  yours,"  went  on  the  lawyer.  "  Perhaps 
you'd  like  to  take  them  up  at  once.  They  fall 
due  the  day  after  to-morrow." 

"No,  I  called  to  speak  to  you  about  renew- 
ing. You  remember,  Mat,  you  said " 

"  I  remember  nothing  at  all.  I've  a  bad 
memory,"  interrupted  O'Hara.  "That's  why 
I  like  to  have  things  in  black  and  white,  and 
what's  written  I  stand  by." 

"  Oh,  come,  hang  it  all,"  cried  Bob,  stung  by 
the  other's  bare-faced  denial.  "  You  said  you 
hated  lawyers  and  writings  between  gentlemen, 
and  that  the  whole  thing  was  only  a  matter 
of  form." 

"  When  did  I  ever  say  the  like?  " 

"  In  your  own  parlour  in  Ballintubber  the  very 
night  we  first  talked  over  the  deal." 

"Then   I   was  drunk   if  I   did,   an'    I  mind 
76 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

nothing  about  it."  Mat  turned  again  to  his  con- 
templation of  the  pictures,  flinging  an  ultima- 
tum viciously  over  his  shoulder. 

"  Anyhow,  it's  in  McMaster's  hands  now. 
Settle  it  between  ye." 

Bob  turned  helplessly  to  the  lawyer. 

"Well,  I  haven't  got  the  money  to  pay;  so 
now  what  will  you  do?" 

"Sue  on  the  notes,  and  when  we  have  ob- 
tained judgment  seize  goods  enough  to  satisfy 
it,"  answered  the  attorney. 

I  haven't  any  goods  that  would  fetch  any- 
thing," returned  Bob.  "Better  renew." 

"You  have  the  horse,"  began  McMaster, 
but  O'Hara  again  interrupted. 

"  An'  ye  have  Liscarrick — what's  left  of  it, 
there  ought  to  be  enough  between  them  to 
make  up  a  thrifle  like  this." 

Young  Delaney  drew  a  sharp  breath  that  was 
almost  a  grasp.  Here  was  a  catastrophe  he  had 
never  foreseen.  While  he  stood,  stricken 
silent,  the  lawyer  threw  in  a  reassuring  word: 

"  Don't  mind  Mr.  O'Hara's  manner.  He's  a 
bit  ruffled  to-day.  At  any  rate  the  money's  not 
due  yet.  You  have  till  Wednesday  to  find  it." 

Bob  laughed  derisively.  "And  where  do 
you  suppose  I  am  to  find  sixteen  hundred  pounds 
in  two  days  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  This  is  no  subject  for  levity,"  reproved  Mc- 
Master. "You  should  have  thought  of  this 
when  you  went  into  the  speculation.  As  for 
where  you're  to  find  this  sum,  it  is  not  my  place 
to  advise  you,  but  I  should  have  thought  a 
young  gentleman  of  your  position  would  have 

77 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

had  friends  to  whom  he  could  appeal." 
"There  is  my  uncle  Gerald,"  ventured  Bob, 
who,  considering  that  this  name  had  been  very 
near  his  lips  ever  since  he  entered  the  room,  had 
borne  himself  not  maladroitly. 

"  A  gentleman  of  very  considerable  wealth  I 
have  been  given  to  understand,"  observed  Mc- 
Master.  "If  he  will  send  a  cheque  for  the 
amount — let  me  see — I  haven't  calculated  the 
interest  yet,  but  I  can  let  him  have  a  note  of  it 
in  the  course  of  the  day — if  he  will  give  his 
cheque  it  will  be  quite  satisfactory." 

"  I  have  spoken  to  him,"  Bob  answered 
gloomily,  "and  he  utterly  refuses  to  pay  it  for 
me." 

O'Hara,  who  had  been  an  eager  listener, 
turned  suddenly. 

"  Then  you  may  tell  him  from  me  I'll  sell 
up  Liscarrick,  lock,  stock,  and  barrel,  but  I'll 
have  me  rights." 

"  Gently,  Mr.  O'Hara,"  pleaded  the  attorney. 
"  I  can  see  that  Mr.  Delaney  has  an  alternative 
proposition  to  advance.  Let  us  hear  him  out." 

"  It's  this,"  continued  Bob.  "  He  won't  pay 
the  money,  but  he'll  put  his  name  on  the  note  if 
you'll  renew." 

"  But  why?  "  urged  the  attorney.  "  Is  it  not 
the  same  thing?  " 

"  Heaven  knows  why,"  sighed  Bob,  wearily. 
"  I  argued  with  him  on  that  very  point  for  an 
hour,  but  he  wouldn't  give  in.  Call  it  a  rich 
man's  whim.  There  it  is." 

Mr.  McMaster,  who  had  a  profound  reverence 
for  ricK  men  and  all  their  whims,  pondered.     If 
78 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

Gerald  were  really  solvent  the  security  was 
good — quite  as  good  as  the  cash.  Nor  did  he 
forget  that  all  this  talk  of  legal  pressure  and 
selling  Liscarrick  was  no  more  than  a  threat — 
a  threat  his  client  was  not  at  the  moment  pre- 
pared to  carry  out. 

"It  is  very  strange,"  he  said  at  last,  "  very 
strange  that  a  gentleman  of  Mr.  Gerald 
Delaney's  means  should  prefer  to  incur  a  liabi- 
lity rather  than  pay  this  trifling  amount.  I 
suppose  there  is  no  doubt  that  your  uncle  is 
solvent?  Remember,  we  know  little  of  him 
here,  and  his  property  is  far  away." 

11  Solvent !  "  laughed  Bob.  "  I  only  wish  you 
and  I  had  half  his  money.  Look  here,"  and  he 
produced  the  elaborately  lithographed  certifi- 
cates of  shares  from  his  pocket.  "  Here's  a 
little  trifle  that  he  asked  me  to  insure  and  regis- 
ter before  posting  them  to  his  brokers  in 
London." 

Bob  was  neither  very  truthful  nor  very  scrupu- 
lous, but  in  saying  this  he  was  going  far  beyond 
anything  he  had  intended  on  leaving  home. 
He  had  brought  the  certificates,  without  their 
owner's  knowledge,  intending  no  more  than  to 
exhibit  them  with  a  brag  and  a  flourish  when  the 
negotiations  were  concluded.  For  it  had  never 
occurred  to  him  that  anyone  would  doubt  his 
uncle's  wealth  or  call  his  solvency  in  question. 
But  finding  himself  in  a  difficulty,  he,  as  his 
habit  had  been  from  boyhood,  lied  his  way 
through  it. 

The  certificates  had  the  effect  he  anticipated. 

H'm!  Golden  Horse  Mine!  I  seem  to  have 
79 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

heard  the  name,"  commented  McMasfer,  rust- 
ling the  crisp  paper  as  he  read,  while  O'Hara 
hung  over  his  shoulder.  "  Incorporated  accord- 
ing to  the  laws  of  the  State  of  California. 
Capital,  ten  million  dollars.  H'ml  That's 
about  two  million  sterling,  and  this  scrip  repre- 
sents a  face  value  of  two  hundred  thousand 
pounds.  Do  you  happen  to  know  if  the  stock 
stands  anywhere  near  par?"  he  continued, 
glancing  up. 

"  It's  at  a  slight  premium,  I  think,"  answered 
Bob  airily,  "  but  my  uncle  believes  in  the  pro- 
perty and  is  not  anxious  to  sell." 

"  I  can  well  understand  how,  with  friis 
amount  of  capital  locked  up,  Mr.  Gerald 
Delaney  may  prefer  not  to  find  even  sixteen 
hundred  pounds  at  a  moment's  notice,"  the 
lawyer  remarked,  as  he  returned  the  certificates. 
"Well,  I  think  if  you  can  persuade  your  uncle 
to  accept  your  bill  at  thirty  days  we  may  con- 
sider the  matter  settled,  Mr.  Delaney." 

"Only  thirty  days,"  said  Bob,  somewhat 
crestfallen.  "That's  a  very  short  da!e.  We 
had  thought  of  three  months." 

"  I  think  we  are  treating  you  very  liberally — 
even  indulgently,"  the  attorney  replied  stiffly. 
"'At  any  rate,  if  is  as  far  as  my  client  is  pre- 
pared to  go." 

"Aye,  take  if  or  lave  it,"  O'Hara  broke 
in.  "THe  day  after  to-morrow  or  that  day 
month." 

"That  day  month,  of  course,"  Bob  said  hur- 
riedly.    "  My  uncle  promised  his  name,  but*  said 
nothing  about  the  date.     If  you  will  make  out 
80 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

the  note  and  send  it  up  to  Liscarrick,  you  can 
have  his  signature." 

"  It  shall  be  attended  to  to-morrow,  and  I  will 
return  your  old  notes  cancelled  when  I  have  your 
uncle's  acceptance.  Is  there  anything  else  I 
can  do  for  you,  sir?  " 

"Nothing,  thanks,"  replied  Bob,  preparing 
to  go. 

And  Mr.  Delaney  was  quite  astute  enough 
to  go  straight  to  the  Post  Office,  which  was  sit- 
uated immediately  opposite  Mr.  McMaster's 
premises,  and  to  remain  there  for  some  twenty 
minutes,  before  he  mounted  his  pony,  and,  toss- 
ing a  copper  to  the  ragged  urchin  who  held  it, 
trotted  home. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

"WHISKEY    WHALEN'S    DAUGHTER." 

GERALD  was  much  relieved  on  receiving  Bob's 
account  of  his  interview  with  McMaster,  though 
it  may  be  doubted  if  he  would  have  felt  so  well 
content  if  the  version  which  his  nephew  supplied 
had  been  full  and  accurate.  As  it  was,  he  was 
simply  told  that  his  mere  name  had  smoothed 
away  all  difficulties,  and,  while  marvelling  that 
the  attorney  should  be  so  easy  to  deal  with,  did 
not  feel  called  upon  to  enter  into  any  elaborate 
explanation.  He  calmly  determined  that  the 
colt  should  be  sold  at  once,  and  the  money 
applied  to  the  payment  of  the  debt.  Of  the 
mining  shares,  which  once  more  reposed  snugly 
in  their  owner's  portmanteau,  or  of  the  use  made 
of  them,  Bob  told  his  uncle  no  single  word. 

When,  on  the  following  morning,  McMaster's 
clerk  appeared  with  a  bill  at  thirty  days  for  some 
^1,648,  Bob  signed  it,  and  Gerald  accepted  it 
without  question.  The  former  hovered  uneasily 
round,  so  long  as  the  attorney's  man  remained  in 
the  house,  prepared  to  steer  the  conversation 
away  from  the  dangerous  topic  should  the  clerk 
let  fall  any  unguarded  allusion  to  Golden  Horse- 
shoe stock  and  the  imaginary  wealth  of  the  re- 
turned Californian. 

But  the  interview  was  brief  and  strictly  con- 
fined to  the  business  on  hand.     As  soon  as  they 
were  alone,  Gerald  gave  his  graceless  nephew  a 
83 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK   GROWS 

sound  lecture  on  his  reckless  conduct,  and  then, 
feeling  inclined  for  more  intellectual  society 
than  Bob  could  offer,  ordered  round  the  pony 
trap  and  drove  over  to  the  Priory. 

In  the  course  of  these  weeks  a  warm  friend- 
shop  had  sprung  up  between  Kate  and  Gerald. 
In  her  he  found  a  companion  whose  interests 
were  not  all  contained  within  the  little  strip  of 
Ireland  bounded  by  the  Atlantic  and  McGilli- 
cuddy's  Reeks.  She  could  talk  of  the  great 
world,  of  which  she  had  had  glimpses,  and  of 
the  greater  world  which  is  contained  in  books. 
And  to  Gerald,  harassed  by  the  complications 
which  had  met  him  on  the  very  threshold  of  his 
old  home,  and  sick  to  death  of  the  sordid  cares 
which  made  up  the  life  within  it,  companionship 
of  a  congenial  kind  was  a  necessity. 

With  his  sister-in-law  he  had  little  in  common. 
His  brother's  choice  of  a  bride  had  pleased  none 
of  the  family,  Gerald  regarding  it,  with  some 
reason,  as  a  mesalliance.  Intellectually,  he  held 
her  in  contempt,  and  he  felt  so  irritated  at  her 
encouragement  of  O'Hara  that  it  was  at  times 
all  he  could  dp  to  preserve  a  decently  civil 
demeanour. 

With  Bob,  too,  though  he  was  still  ignorant 
of  the  false  position  into  which  that  young 
gentleman  had  betrayed  him,  he  was  seriously 
angry,  and  of  his  niece  and  of  his  old  friend 
Jack  Whalen  he  saw  less  and  less  each  day. 
These  young  people  seemed  to  grow  increasingly 
sufficient  for  each  other  as  time  went  on,  and 
though  Gerald  watched  their  ripening  attach- 
ment with  a  favourable  eye,  he  was  often  lonely. 
te 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

Under  these  circumstances  the  refined  and 
luxurious  atmosphere  at  the  Priory,  and  the 
sympathetic  welcome  he  always  met  with  there, 
were  inexpressibly  comforting  to  him. 

As  for  Kate,  she  had  been  prepared  to  like 
Gerald  before  she  saw  him,  and  she  liked  him 
better  each  day  she  knew  him.  It  was  the 
penalty  of  the  morbid  view  she  took  of  her  posi- 
tion that  she  had  few  male  friends.  At  the 
smallest  hint  of  masculine  attention  her  sensitive 
pride  took  the  alarm. 

But  Gerald  was  different  somehow.  He  was 
Molly's  uncle,  and  as  such  placed  by  Kate  on  a 
pinnacle  of  seniority  which  his  years  scarcely 
warranted.  And  then  he  was  rich — so  rich,  she 
told  herself,  that  she  need  not  fear  he  sought 
her  society  from  any  ulterior  motive.  No,  if  he 
liked  her  at  all — and  she  was  beginning  to  hope 
he  did — it  was  a  purely  personal  sentiment  in 
which  distilleries  and  money  bags  bore  no  part. 

Gerald  found  Miss  Fetherstone  on  this  occa- 
sion in  a  mood  which,  in  a  lady  of  fewer  attrac- 
tions, he  would  have  described  as  a  "  tantrum." 
She  had  a  quick  temper — quick,  that  is,  to  flare 
uip  as  well  as  to  die  down,  and  she  was  apt  to  do 
or  say  things  in  moments  of  irritation  which  she 
bittelrly  regretted  later. 

It  was  only  an  hour  before  Gerald's  arrival 
that  she  had  summarily  dismissed  her  favourite 
groom,  Nolan,  for  some  disobedience  of  orders, 
in  the  attempted  justification  of  which  he  had 
been  guilty  of  what  she  chose  at  the  moment  to 
regard  as  impertinence.  But  he  was  a  good 
servant — she  did  not  know  where  she  was  likely 
34 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

to  find  a  better,  and,  more  than  all,  she  liked  the 
man,  and  he  had  been  obviously  distressed  and 
shaken  by  his  dismissal.  This  last  counted  for 
much  with  Kate,  who  was  a  thoroughly  kind- 
hearted  woman,  and  she  had  chafed  herself  into 
a  mood  in  which  experience  had  taught  Mrs. 
Purvis  that  it  was  safest  not  to  approach  her. 

She  was  seated,  alone  upon  the  terrace  when 
Gerald  drove  up. 

Nolan,  as  usual,  came  from-  the  yard  at  the 
sound  of  wheels  and  relieved  the  visitor  of  his 
pony.  And  Gerald,  also  as  usual,  had  a  kindly 
word  or  two  for  the  groom,  but  he  noticed  that 
the  reply  was  not  so  prompt  and  cheerful  as 
aforetime. 

"What's  the  matter  with  Nolan?"  he  asked 
after  he  had  joined  Kate,  and  the  brief  greetings 
had  been  exchanged  which  pass  between  friends 
who  meet  almost  daily. 

"  I  am  seriously  displeased  with  him,"  replied 
Kate.  "  I  have  been  compelled  to  dismiss  him." 

"Oh,  I'm  sorry,"  said  Gerald  awkwardly. 
There  were  danger  signals  on  the  lady's  cheeks 
which  warned  him  not  to  pursue  the  subject. 

"  So  am  I,"  she  said,  "but  he  was  insolent 
and  disobedient  I  had  no  choice." 

"Too  bad,"  remarked  Gerald  sympatheti- 
cally. "Some  people  don't  know  when  they're 
well  off." 

"But  you  are  worried  yourself,"  she  said, 
looking  at  him.  "What  is  it.  Tell  me?" 

"May  I  smoke?"  and  as  she  nodded  per- 
mission, he  lit  a  cigarette. 

He  was  worried,  he  could  not  deny  it,  and  he 
85 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

longed  to  share  his  burden.  Well,  why  should 
he  not  ?  The  scandal  was  no  secret,  he  feared, 
and  surely  Kate  was  sympathetic. 

"  Is  it  about  Bob?  "  she  asked,  watching  him 
as  he  threw  down  the  match  and  stamped  upon 
it. 

"Oh,  Bob!"  he  exclaimed  rather  contempt- 
uously. "Yes,  he  has  been  making  an  ass  of 
himself  and  running  into  debt.  However,  I've 
luckily  been  able  to  arrange  that  for  him,  or  the 
consequences  might  have  been  serious." 

"What  is  it  then?"  The  flush  on  her 
cheeks  had  faded  out  and  there  was  a  softened 
look  in  her  eyes.  Certainly  she  was  interested 
— interested  and  sympathetic. 

"What  do  you  think  of  O'Hara?"  he  asked 
abruptly. 

"  Oh,  it's  O'Hara  is  it?"  she  said.  "  I  don't 
think  of  him  at  all  if  I  can  help  it,  and  if  you'll 
take  my  advice,  no  more  will  you." 

"I'm  afraid  we  shall  have  to,  whether  we  like 
it  or  no,"  and  then  he  added  with  sudden  vehem- 
ence. "  What  an  unspeakable  cad  the  fellow 
is." 

"  He  is  certainly  a  very  unpleasant  person," 
assented  Kate. 

"And  he  drinks,"  added  Gerald  gloomily. 

"I'm  afraid  there's  no  doubt  of  that,"  she 
assented. 

"And  knowing  all  this,"  he  continued  hotly, 
"  isn't  it  damnable — I  beg  your  pardon — isn't  it 
disgusting,  that  Emmie  encourages  him." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Delaney,  surely  no,  I  have  noticed 
—I  mean   Molly  has— Oh   no!    Mrs.   Delaney 
86 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

isn't  very  wise,  I  am  afraid,  and  she's  rather  too 
fond  of  admiration — but  encourage  Mat  O'Hara 
in  the  sense  you  mean — I'll  never  believe  it  of 
her." 

"  Heaven  grant  you're  right,"  sighed  Gerald, 
"but  if  you'd  seen  what  I've  seen — days  and 
weeks  of  it.  O'Hara's  game  is  plain  enough, 
Emmie  has  a  jointure — it's  about  all  they  have 
among  them — God  help  them — and  if  this  crea- 
ture wins  the  stake  he  is  playing  for,  Liscarrick 
will  have  to  go." 

"  Surely  Mr.  O'Hara  would  not  exact  that. 
He  has  means." 

"  But  he  surely  will.  What  do  you  suppose 
he  is  courting  my  sister-in-law  for  ?  Every  one 
knows  she  has  a  few  hundreds  a  year." 

"  For  shame,  Mr.  Delaney !  Are  you  one  of 
those  who  believe  a  man  cannot  love  a  woman 
for  herself,  without  a  thought  of  what  she  can 
command  in  cash?" 

"  I  am  a  firm  believer  in  love  for  love's  sake," 
answered  Gerald.  "  But  when  a  man  like 
O'Hara  goes  courting  a  woman  fifteen  years  his 
senior,  one  is  forced  to  look  for  motives." 

"Have  you  spoken  to  Mrs.  Delaney,"  asked 
Kate.  "  If  she  only  reflected—" 

41  She -never  reflected  in  her  life,"  said  Gerald, 
bitterly.  "  Her  brain  is  the  size  of  a  pea,  and 
it  rattles." 

"  Her  heart  is  large  enough,"  retorted  Kate. 
When  I  came  to  the  Priory  a  stranger,  it  was  she 
stood  my  sponsor  in  the  county." 

"Surely,  Miss  Fetherstone  needed  no 
sponsor,  least  of  all  Mrs.  Delaney,  nee  Miss 
87 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

Emily  Hogan,"  exclaimed  Gerald.     "All   Ire- 
land knows  the  Fetherstones  of  Lisnahoe  '• 

"  And  all  the  world  knows  the  Whalens  of  the 
Shamrock  Blend."  She  spoke  with  bitter  em- 
phasis, all  the  morbid  hatred  she  felt  for  her 
position  reflecting  itself  in  her  tone.  "The 
Whalens'  are  far  better  known  than  the 
Fetherstones.  The  name  is  on  every  hoarding 
in  every  newspaper.  If  you  go  into  a  railway 
refreshment  room  you  cannot  help  seeing  it.  I 
can't.  It  hits  my  eye  on  every  public-house 
window  as  I  drive  through  Dublin — or  London, 
for  that  matter.  I  have  seen  ;t  at  midnight,  on 
my  way  home  from  the  opera,  flaring  in  gas-jets 
from  the  house-tops — changing  from  green  to 
crimson  on  some  great  transparency.  '  Drink 
Whalen's  Whiskey!  The  finest  in  the  world!'  " 

"  But  this  is  sensitiveness  run  mad,"  said  the 
bewildered  Gerald,  as  she  paused  for  breath. 
"Your  name  is  not  Whalen;  you  have  nothing 
fo  do  with  the  business  or  its  advertisments,  ex- 
cept to  draw  your  dividends." 

"  I  practically  own  it — I  and  my  sister." 

"  I  would  not  think  of  it,  if  I  were  you,  if  it 
works  you  up  like  this.  Forget  it!" 

"Forget  it,"  she  cried  impatiently,  "I  wish 
I  could.  I  shall  never  forget  it — never  escape 
from  it.  A  few  months  ago  I  was  cursed  in  the 
streets  of  Dublin  by  a  woman  whose  life  had 
been  ruined  by  a  drunken  husband." 

"  Not  your  fault,"  Gerald  said. 

"No,  not  my  fault,  but  it  shows  hoxv  clearly  the 
world  remembers  that  Katherine  Fetherstone's 
mother  was  'Whiskey  Whalen's  '  daughter." 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

She  rose  and  paced  up  and  down  the  terrace 
for  a  few  minutes,  obviously  struggling  to  regain 
her  self-control.  Gerald  watched  her  curiously. 
To  him  her  outbreak  had  seemed  almost  hysteri- 
cal, and  yet,  in  other  matters,  a  saner,  better 
balanced  young  woman  than  Kate  Featherstone 
he  had  nevei  met.  But  certainly,  on  this  par- 
ticular day  he  had  found  her  in  a  peculiar  mood. 

She  stopped  and  stood  in  front  of  him,  her 
hands  clasped  behind  her,  looking  down  on  him. 
Gerald  waited  for  her  to  break  the  silence,  but 
she  did  not  sneak.  And,  for  the  life  of  him,  he 
could  think  of  nothing  appropriate  to  say. 

Just  as  the  situation  was  beginning  to  grow 
awkward  it  was  relieved  by  the  groom  who  came 
round  from  the  back  of  the  house  and,  mounting 
the  terrace,  touched  his  hat. 

"Well,  Nolan,  what  is  it?"  asked  his 
mistress. 

"I  beg  yer  pardon,  miss;  but  the  coachman 
is  out,  and  who  am  I  to  lave  the  key  of  Red 
Rover's  box  wid  av  ye  plaze?" 

Kate's  anger  had  quite  evaporated.  Far 
different  emotions  had  usurped  its  place.  She 
was  forced  to  pause  a  moment  before  she  could 
recall  all  the  circumstances. 

"  Oh,  yes;  I  was  going  to  speak  to  you,"  she 
said,  presently.  "  Don't  you  know  that  I  cannot 
endure  to  see  a  bearing  rein  on  a  horse?" 

"  Yes  Miss,  but  as  I  was  strivin'  to  tell  ye, 
Bay  Champion  bores  wid  his  head  that  much 
that " 

"I  daresay  you  had  a  veason,"  interrupted 
Kate,  <(1  but  reason  or  no  reason,  I  want  you  to 
So 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

remember  that  when  I  say  a  thing  I  mean  it. 
Now,  all  I  want  to  be  sure  is  that  this  shan't  cccur 
again.  You  may  keep  Red  Rover's  key." 

"D'ye  mane,  Miss,  that  I "     Nolan  broke 

off  and  hope  glistened  in  his  eyes. 

"  You  need  not  go  if  you  prefer  to  stay.  I 
have  no  fault  to  find  with  you  but  the  one,  and 
perhaps  this  will  be  a  lesson  to  you.  Now  you 
can  go  back  to  the  yard." 

"Long  life  to  ye,  Miss!  I'll  niver  put  a 
check  rein  on  horse  of  yours  again,  not  av  he 
stood  up  on  his  hind  legs  and  axed  for  it.  Long 
life  to  ye,  miss,  an'  thank  ye  kindly  wanst 
more." 

And  Nolan  turned  and  ran  down  the  terrace 
steps,  muttering  as  he  went.  "  Begorra,  she's 
the  raal  sort,  an'  her  bark  was  always  worse  nor 
her  bite." 

"You  have  made  one  heart  happy  to-day," 
said  Gerald  smiling  as  he  watched  the  groom's 
retreating  figure. 

"  Yes;  after  having  made  the  poor  fellow  mis- 
erable for  an  hour  or  two — to  say  nothing  of 
myself.  I  should  never  have  made  so  much  of 
so  small  a  fault.  I  wish  I  had  my  temper  under 
better  control,"  she  went  on  with  a  sigh.  "  I 
always  go  too  far." 

"  And  then  take  it  back.  It  is  a  woman's 
privilege,"  smiled  Gerald. 

"  But  some  day  I  may  say  or  do  something  I 
can't  take  back,"  replied  Kate.  "Come  in  and 
bave  a  cup  of  tea.  I  see  Mrs.  Purvis  waving 
her  hand  at  the  window." 

And  they  passed  into  the  house  together. 
90 


CHAPTER   X. 
MAT  O'HARA'S  WOOING. 

GERALD  and  Molly  were  strolling  up  and  down 
the  back  avenue  at  Liscarrick,  enjoying  the  last 
of  the  afternoon  sun,  for  the  weather  was  bright 
and  promised  frost.  Jack  Whalen  had  taken  a 
gun  down  to  the  bog,  and  hoped  to  return  with 
a  few  snipe  or  wild  duck.  Molly  was,  in  conse- 
quence, quite  at  her  uncle's  disposal  and  the  two 
were  planning  a  servants'  and  tenants'  ball, 
wherewith  Gerald  proposed  to  celebrate  the  fast 
approaching  Christmas. 

Such  festivities  had  been  frequent  at  Liscar- 
rick in  the  old  days,  and  he  had  taken  part  in 
many  a  one,  but  for  years  the  practice  had  been 
discontinued,  and  it  was  Gerald's  whim  to  revive 
it  on  this  occasion. 

"  Mat  O'Hara's  sure  to  come  and  get  drunk 
and  spoil  everything,"  said  Molly,  falling  sud- 
denly from  pleasant  anticipation  into  profound 
despondency  as  the  name  she  hated  occurred  to 
her. 

"  Not  he,"  replied  her  uncle,  "I'll  be  host  for 
the  time  being,  and  I'll  take  jolly  good  care  he's 
not  asked." 

"As  if  he'd  wait  for  an  invitation  I  Ballin- 
tubber  is  one  of  Bob's  farms  and  if  the  tenants 
are  invited  he'd  consider  himself  entitled  to 
come." 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"  Well,  we'll  see,"  said  the  other.  "  Don't  let 
him  get  on  your  nerves  anyhow.  I'm  deter- 
mined we  shall  have  one  good  old  spree  with  or 
without  Master  Mat." 

At  this  moment  Molly  caught  a  distant  glimpse 
of  a  big  grey  horse  which  Larry  was  leading 
round  to  the  stable  yard. 

"  I  believe  that's  his  horse."  she  exclaimed. 
He's  here  this  minute.  I'd  better  run  in,  Uncle. 
Mamma's  all  alone." 

"  Come  along,  I'll  go  with  you,"  cried  Gerald, 
turning  to  follow  her,  for  she  had  already 
started. 

But  Molly  outran  him. 

O'Hara  was  a  brisk  wooer  and  he  failed  to  see 
that  anything  was  to  be  gained  by  delay,  so,  as 
the  ground  was  too  hard  for  hunting,  he  deter- 
mined to  ride  over  and,  as  he  phrased  it,  "  dis- 
coorse  the  widow." 

His  mind  was  disturbed  by  none  of  the  doubts 
which  are  popularly  supposed  to  torment  the 
swain  about  to  put  his  fate  to  the  touch.  Indeed, 
he  had  few  misgivings  as  to  the  result  of  an 
embassy  whose  success,  in  any  event,  he  deter- 
mined to  secure  by  the  simple  process  of  refusing 
to  take  "no"  for  an  answer.  He  sacrificed  so 
far  to  the  occasion  as  to  pay  a  little  extra 
attention  to  his  dress,  and  to  wash  his  hands — 
this  last  a  highly  desirable  innovation.  Then, 
having  fortified  himself  with  a  glass  or  two  of 
the  Shamrock  Blend,  he  mounted  his  horse  and 
cantered  up  to  Liscarrick. 

Fortune  so  far  favoured  him  that  he  found  his 
lady-love  immediately.  She  was  near  the  door, 
02 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

engaged  in  snipping  dead  leaves  from  the  ivy 
which  covered  the  front  of  the  house,  when  he 
rode  up. 

"  The  top  of  the  mornin'  to  ye,  ma'am.  It's 
a  fine  evening  ye  have  for  yer  gardenin',"  he  re- 
marked as  he  swung  himself  out  of  the  saddle 
and  surrendered  his  horse  to  Larry,  who 
appeared  opportunely. 

"Oh,  Mr.  O'Hara,  how  you  startled  me," 
fluttered  the  widow,  dropping  her  basket  and 
scissors. 

"  Begob,  then,  if  ye  knew  how  it  becomes  ye, 
ye'd  go  through  life  in  a  fright,"  replied  Mat, 
gallantly  stooping  to  retrieve  the  fallen  articles. 

Mrs.  Delaney  stooped  for  the  same  purpose, 
and  their  fingers  met.  This  was  the  Squireen's 
opportunity,  and  he  seized  it  and  the  fair  hand 
simultaneously. 

"  Arrah,  don't  be  sthrivin'  to  take  it  from  me," 
pleaded  he,  resisting  her  feeble  efforts  to  with- 
draw. "  Can't  ye  lave  this  purty  little  hand 
wid  me  for  a  minute  anyhow,  till  ye  tell  me 
whether  I  may  have  it  for  ever  an'  a  day." 

"Mr.  O'Hara!  Please — do  let  me  go. 
Don't  you  see  we're  right  in  front  of  the 
windows.  What  will  people  think?" 

"  Divil  a  hair  I  care  what  they  think,"  he 
rejoined  with  well  simulated  passion.  "  Mat 
O'Hara's  not  ashamed  of  his  honest  love.  Ye 
must  have  seen  what  I  was  afther  this  many  a 
day.  It's  not  the  scrag  of  mutton  or  the  odd 
glass  of  whiskey  that  brings  ,me  to  Liscarrick. 
Sure  I've  got  betther  at  home.  It's  yer  own 
deeny,  dainty,  dawnshee  self." 
Q3 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"Mr.  O'Hara"— began  'the  lady,  but  he  in- 
terrupted her. 

"Call  me  Mat, — yer  own  Mat.  Sure  it's 
proud  an'  happy  I'd  be  to  have  ye  wipin'  yer 
two  little  weenshee  feet  on  me  every  minute  of 
the  day." 

"  Don't,  please  !  "  She  was  defending  herself 
more  vigorously  than  he  had  expected.  "You 
must  really  behave.  Do  you  know  you're  talk- 
ing very  strangely." 

"I'm  talking  the  language  of  love,  darlint," 
he  protested,  "  an'  I  hope  that'll  never  be  strange 
to  ye  as  long  as  Mat  O'Hara  has  a  tongue  in  his 
head." 

Mrs.  Delaney  was  beginning  to  yield.  His 
arm  had  stolen  round  her  waist  and  he  was 
bending  down  to  look  in  her  face. 

"Well,"  she  began  bashfully,  and  speaking 
very  low 

"  Spake  up,  avick,"  he  broke  in.  "  Say  that 
ye  love 'me.  Out  wid  it.  Sure  I've  read  it  in 
yer  eyes  this  many  a  day." 

At  this  juncture  up  dashed  Molly,  breathless 
and  dishevelled.  She  took  in  the  situation  at  a 
glance. 

"  Mamma,  dear,"  the  girl  panted  as  her 
mother  abruptly  drew  away  from  the  encircling 
arm,  "  come  in  a  moment.  I  want  you  par- 
ticularly." 

"  Molly,  child,  how  untidy  you  look,"  re- 
proved the  elder  lady,  "and  where  are  your 
manners?"  Don't  you  see  Mr.  O'Hara?" 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  O'Hara?"  Molly 
uttered  perfunctorily,  and  then  renewed  her 
94 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

importunity.  "  Won't  you  come  in  with  me. 
It's  most  urgent." 

"  I  think  yer  mamma  will  find  betther  enter- 
tainment here,"  said  Mat,  and  he  turned 
to  Mrs.  Delaney.  "Eh,  ducky?" 

"Oh,  do  come,  mamma  dear,"  pleaded  the 
agonised  girl.  Then  seeing  that  her  mother 
hesitated  and  glanced  at  her  companion,  she 
added  in  desperation.  "  Mr.  O'Hara  will  come 
too." 

"  Sorra  fear  of  it,  honey,"  returned  the  wooer. 
"  Mat  O'Hara  knows  when  he's  well  off.  Eh, 
my  little  chickabiddy  groundsel?"  and,  as  he 
spoke,  his  arm  stole  once  more  round  Mrs. 
Delaney's  waist. 

Molly  stood  for  a  moment  appalled,  and  then 
turned  and  fled  back  by  the  way  she  had  come. 

"  I'll  bring  Uncle  Gerald,"  she  said  to  her- 
self, as  she  ran. 

Mat  felt  that  time  was  growing  short  and  bent 
all  his  energies  to  bring  matters  to  a  crisis. 

"  Say  ye'll  be  mine,"  he  urged.  "  Only  one 
little  word?" 

"  It  seems  so  foolish,"  simpered  the  widow. 
"  With  grown-up  children  too." 

1 '  What  have  they  to  do  wid  the  state  of  yer 
affections?"  cried  O'Hara,  indignantly.  "Come 
Emmie,  say  ye'll  marry  me.  Ye'll  niver  do 
betther.  Ballintubber's  a  sweet  place,  an'  sure 
life  won't  be  worth  livin'  till  I  see  yerself  in  it." 

What  form  of  words  Mrs.  Delaney  chose  to 

convey  her  assent  will  never  be  known,  nor  is  it 

certain  that  she  spake  at  all;  but  Mat  put  his 

own  interpretation    on    her  speech,    or  on    her 

95 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

silence,  and  the  next  moment  she  was  in  his 
arms. 

He  had  time  to  snatch  but  a  single  kiss  and 
exultantly  exclaim,  "  Hurroo  for  the  luck  of  the 
O'Hara'sl"  when  Molly  appeared,  urging  her 
uncle  forward. 

Mrs.  Delaney  extricated  herself  with  a  faint 
scream,  but  Mat  was  in  nowise  abashed. 

"Hello,  brother-in-law,"  he  exclaimed, 
"  you're  just  in  time  to  hear,  the  good  news. 
Shall  I  tell  him,  Emmie  darlint,  or  shall  I  lave 
him  to  guess  it?" 

Though  long  expected,  this  revelation  came 
to  Gerald  with  a  shock  that  momentarily  stunned 
him.  Ignoring  the  Squireen's  impertinence,  he 
turned  limply  to  Molly. 

"Too  late,"  he  said.  "Too  late,  I'm 
afraid." 

"  Begob,  I'll  tell  him,"  continued  O'Hara, 
briskly.  "  Why  should  we  make  a  sacret  of  it. 
Sure  we're  all  a  family  party  together,  an'  it'll  be 
in  the  papers  soon.  I'm  the  luckiest  man  in  the 
Barony,  Gerald  avick.  Emmie  here  has  just 
promised  to  have  me." 

"It  isn't  true,  is  it  Emmie?  You're  not 
going  to  marry  this — this — "  Gerald  broke  off 
without  committing  himself  to  an  epithet. 

"Thrue,"    cried   Mat,    swaggering    forward. 
"  D'ye  think  I'd  be  afther  lyin'  to  ye?    To  be 
sure  it's  thrue !    Have  ye  anything  to  say  agen 
it?" 

"  Emmie,"  Gerald  persisted,  "  I'm  waiting 
for  your  answer.  Have  you  promised  to  marry 
th\s~-gentleman  ?" 

96 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"  I  trust  you  approve,  Gerald  dear,"  faltered 
Mrs.  Delaney. 

"No  I  don't,"  answered  her  brother-in-law, 
bluntly. 

O'Hara  thrust  his  face  close  to  Gerald's. 

"  What  have  ye  agen  me,  Mr.  Gerald 
Delaney?"  he  shouted.  "  Maybe  I'm  not  good 
enough  for  your  sister.  The  O'rfaras  are  as 
long  in  the  county  as  the  best  Delaney  that  ever 
stepped  in  Liscarrick,  an'  I  could  buy  an'  sell 
the  place  an'  all  that's  in  it." 

"  I  am  not  calling  in  question  either  the 
length  of  your  pedigree  or  the  depth  of  your 
purse,"  answered  Gerald  icily.  "  I  suppose  I 
am  entitled  to  my  own  opinion  of  the  connection, 
nevertheless." 

''An'  why?  What  have  ye  agen  me?" 
persisted  Mat. 

"  For  one  thing,  I  disapprove  of  widows 
marrying  at  all." 

"  Don't  say  that,  Gerald  dear,"  pleaded  his 
sister-in-law. 

"  Oh,  you !  I'm  ashamed  of  you  !"  he  retorted, 
almost  brutally. 

"  Oh,  but  you  mustn't  think  hard  of  me,"  she 
went  on.  "I'm  sure  I  esteemed  and  loved  your 
dear  brother  as  much  as  any  woman  could.  He 
was  trying  sometimes,  I'll  admit,  but  I  loved — 
oh  yes,  I  loved  him,  and  was  a  good  wife  to 
him." 

"If  he  wouldn't  like  it,  he'd  a  right  to  have 
stopped  alive,"  interposed  the  Squireen. 

Gerald  turned  on  his  heel  and  addressed  his 
niece,  whose  face  of  agony  and  terror,  as  she 

a 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

stood  silent  and  listening,  emphasised  the 
tragedy  that  underlay  this  strange  scene. 

"  Molly,  go  and  see  if  you  can  find  your 
brother." 

Mat  felt  he  was  master  of  the  situation  and 
acquiesced. 

"  Ay,  do,  Molly  acushla,"  he  said.  "  Sure,  its 
at  a  moment  like  this  I'd  wish  to  have  all  me 
childher  round  me."  Then  as  she  turned  to  go, 
he  grasped  her  by  the  shoulder. 

"  But  there's  no  hurry;  haven't  ye  a  kiss  for 
yer  dada  afore  ye  start?  " 

"  How  dare  you  ?  Let  me  go,"  panted  Molly, 
furiously. 

"Not  without  a  kiss,"  the  other  persisted. 
"  Come,  be  a  good  little  girl  I  " 

"  Let  her  go,  sir,"  interposed  Gerald,  now 
thoroughly  angry.  "  I'm  sending  my  niece  on 

message." 

•'''Send  yer  niece  to  the  divil  if  ye  like,"  re- 
torted O'Hara.  "  That's  no  reason  I  shouldn't 
kiss  me  daughter,"  and  he  bent  down  towards 
Molly. 

With  all  the  strength  of  her  young  arm,  and 
it  was  not  small,  Molly  smote  him  straight  be- 
iween  the  eyes. 

"  Let  me  go,  you  great  brute  1  "  sfie  cried,  and 
as  O'Hara  staggered  back,  confused  and  aston- 
ished, she  sped  on  her  errand. 

Mrs.  Delaney  screamed  and  subsided  into  a 
garden  chair,  where  she  sat,  weeping  softly  and 
wringing  her  hands. 

"  Begorra,  she's  as  strong  as  a  two  year  ould 
Heifer,"  said  Mat  as  he  struggled  to  his  feet,  for 
08 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

he  had  tripped  as  he  gave  back  and  measured  his 
length  on  the  turf.  Then  he  faced  Gerald  with 
a  lowering  look.  "  It's  well  for  ye  that  it  wasn't 
you  give  me  that  shot." 

Gerald  looked  him  up  and  down,  and  his 
fingers  itched  to  serve  the  bully  as  Molly  had 
done;  but  in  an  instant  Mrs.  Delaney  had  risen 
and  was  clinging  to  Mat's  arm,  hoping  he  was 
not  hurt  and  begging  both  men  in  turn  to  shake 
hands  and  be  friends. 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  all  this  trouble 
is  about,"  she  wailed.  "  Dear  knows,  I'm  only 
anxious  to  please  everybody." 

"  Which  is  the  surest  way  of  pleasing  no- 
body," retorted  Gerald,  who  by  a  violent  effort 
had  got  his  temper  again  in  hand. 

"  I  ax  ye  once  more,  what  have  ye  agen  me?  " 
said  O'Hara,  who  could  not  help  carrying  his 
hand  to  his  face  from  time  to  time  and  holding 
it  there  as  if  in  pain. 

"  If  I  told  you,  I  don't  think  you  would  under- 
stand," answered  Gerald.  "  But  this  gentleman 
is  his  mother's  natural  guardian.  Ask  him." 

For  Bob  was  now  approaching  with  his 
sister. 

"Oh,  him!  "said  the  Squireen  contemptu- 
ously. "  He  won't  offer  to  shut  the  dure  in  me 
face.  Ye  wouldn't  have  me  for  a  partner  in  the 
little  harse,  Bob;  maybe  we'll  get  on  betther 
when  I'm  a  mimber  of  the  family." 

"  Never  with  my  good  will,  Mat  O'Hara," 
Bob  replied. 

But  Gerald,  as  he  listened,  realised  that  his 
nephew  was  not  to  be  depended  upon,  and  that 

99 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

himself  must  bear  the  brunt  of  this  battle  in  his 
own  person.  Bob  was  clearly  afraid  of  the 
Squireen.  The  thought  of  the  sixteen  hundred 
cowed  him. 

"Oh  dear,"  sighed  Mrs.  Delaney.  "This 
ought  to  be  the  happiest  day  of  my  life — one  of 
the  happiest,  I  should  say — and  I  declare  you 
all  do  all  you  can  to  make  me  wretched." 

"  Niver  heed  them,  darlint,"  said  Mat  con- 
solingly. "  A  purty  thing  it  would  be  if  child- 
her  could  forbid  their  parents'  marriages.  Sure 
there'd  be  no  childher  at  all  at  that  rate." 

Meanwhile  uncle  and  nephew  exchanged  a  few 
rapid  words. 

"We're  powerless,"  the  former  whispered, 
"  all  we  can  do  is  to  spar  for  time." 

Then  he  approached  the  Squireen  with  a 
complete  change  of  manner. 

"  Well,  Mr.  O'Hara,  I  can  see  nothing  to  be 
gained  by  quarrelling.  My  sister-in-law  must 
be  the  judge  of  her  own  happiness." 

"  Now  ye're  talking  sinse,"  cried  Mat.  "  An' 
ye'll  dance  at  the  weddin'  ?  " 

"  Surely,"  said  Gerald. 

But  Molly  plucked  him  by  the  sleeve. 

"What  are  you  saying,  uncle?  I  wouldn't 
have  believed " 

"Hush,  Molly!    You  don't  understand." 

"We'll  do  the  thing  in  style,"  boasted 
O'Hara,  heedless  or  unobservant  of  this  by-play. 
"Postillions  an'  white  favours  an'  lashins  of 
whisky  punch.  We  were  talkin'  of  New  Year's 
Day,  weren't  we,  Emmie?  " 

"Oh  no!    No  day  was  mentioned  1 " 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"New  Year's  Day,  O'Hara!"  cried  Gerald. 
"  Oh,  no." 

4 '  An'  I  say  oh  yes,"  asserted  Mat. 

"But  consider ;  that's  less  than  two  weeks  off." 

"An'  I'd  be  the  betther  plazed  if  it  was  only 
two  minutes,"  asserted  this  impetuous  wooer. 

"  Come  O'Hara,"  urged  Gerald,  "  you  and  I 
are  men  of  the  world.  We  know  that  ladies 
have  their  little  preparations  to  make  on  these 
occasions.  We  mustn't  hurry  them." 

"  I  couldn't  possibly  be  ready  for  months," 
cried  Emmie,  helplessly. 

11  Och,  murther,"  ejaculated  O'Hara.  "  Sure 
what's  the  good  of  waitin'  like  that?  It's  not 
younger  we'll  be  gettin',  either  of  us." 

"  About  Easter,  now,  is  a  very  fashionable 
time,"  suggested  Gerald,  diplomatically. 

"I'm  no  fashionable  man,"  said  Mat  dog- 
gedly, "and  I  won't  face  Lent  single.  Spake 
up,  darlint,  an'  make  it  a  short  coortin'  ?  " 

"  Two  months  would  be  the  very  least — or 
three,"  hesitated  the  bride  elect. 

O'Hara  took  her  up  short. 

"  Two!  "  I  pin  ye  to  it.  That'll  bring  us  to 
February.  We'll  be  married,  wid  the  blessing 
of  St.  Valentine,  the  very  day  all  the  little  dickey- 
birds  pair.  That's  when  we'll  mate — eh,  me 
little  wood  pigeon  ?  " 

And  Mrs.  Delaney,  after  a  proper  show  of  coy 
reluctance,  assented. 

Bob,  to  whom  a  reprieve  was  ever  as  good  as 
a  pardon,  felt  that  his  uncle  had  scored  a  victory, 
and  conveyed  as  much  to  him  in  an  exultant 
whisper. 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"  A  lot  of  things  can  happen  in  two  months." 
"A  lot  of  things  can  be  made  to  happen," 
replied  Gerald,  significantly. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

MOLLY  MEETS  AN  ADVENTURE  AND  FINDS  A 
PROTECTOR. 

MRS.  DELANEY  had  withdrawn  to  her  room  to 
rest  while  Mat  O'Hara,  deliberately  setting  him- 
self to  win  Bob  back  to  his  allegiance,  had  linked 
arms  with  the  young  master  of  Liscarrick,  and 
led  him  in  the  direction  of  the  stable  yard. 

Bob  submitted  as  rebelliously  as  a  miscoupled 
greyhound,  yet,  taking  his  cue  from  his  uncle, 
and  conscious  that  the  latter  had  some  plan 
whose  execution  involved  keeping  on  terms  with 
the  Squireen,  he  did  his  best  to  respond  to  the 
other's  boisterous  gaiety  and  even  listened  to  his 
criticism  of  "the  little  harse, "  with  a  show  of 
respect. 

Molly's  mood,  meanwhile,  was  little  short 
of  despairing.  She  was  beginning  to  fear 
O'Hara  as  much  as  she  hated  him,  and  her  heart 
bled  for  her  weak,  good-natured  mother.  The 
girl  could  imagine  no  fate  more  dreadful  than 
that  on  which  she  was  blindly  rushing. 

Yearning  for  companionship  and  a  sympa- 
thetic ear  in  which  to  pour  her  troubles,  Molly 
followed  her  uncle  into  the  library,  but  he  speedily 
dismissed  her,  saying  he  wanted  to  be  alone  to 
smoke  and  think. 

Repulsed  in  this  quarter  she  left  the  house  to 
try  if  a  good  brisk  walk  might  not,  as  it  had  often 
done  in  pettier  sorrows,  allay  her  misgivings  and 
bring  her  peace. 

103 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

She  took  the  lower  bog  road,  partly  because  it 
was  lonely  and  partly  because  it  was  the  most 
likely  way  for  Jack  Whalen  to  choose  on  his  way 
back  from  shooting. 

She  stepped  out  at  a  smart  pace,  for  she  was  a 
good  walker,  and  cared  little  for  the  darkness 
which  had  begun  to  close  in  even  before  sfie  set 
out,  and  was  now  as  thick  as  it  usually  is  at  five 
o'clock  of  a  December  evening. 

Pursuing  her  own  reflections,  and  occasionally 
breaking  into  a  run,  like  a  horse  under  the  spur, 
when  stung  by  some  maddening  thought,  the 
girl  had  gone,  perhaps,  a  couple  of  miles,  when 
the  clatter  of  hoofs  behind  her  caused  her  to 
draw  into  the  side  of  the  road,  and  as  the  rider 
came  up  with  her  she  recognised  the  Squireen. 

She  blamed  herself  for  not  remembering  that 
the  road  she  had  chosen  was  an  acknowledged 
short  cut  to  Ballintubber,  but  she  bent  her  head 
and  pursued  her  way,  trusting  to  escape  notice 
in  the  darkness. 

Mat  O'Hara,  however,  had  a  keen  eye  for  a 
good  figure,  and  this  clean-stepping  colleen  on  a 
lonely  road  promised  an  adventure  quite  to  his 
taste.  He  reined  up  as  he  drew  abreast  of  her, 
and  stooping  from  the  saddle,  endeavoured  to 
make  out  the  girl's  features.  But  Molly's  head 
was  resolutely  averted. 

"  Where  are  ye  off  to  in  such  a  hurry,  me 
pretty  lass?  "  he  asked.  "  Don't  be  sthrivin'  to 
run  away,"  he  went  on,  as  Molly  involuntarily 
quickened  her  pace,  "  or  if  ye're  in  a  raal  hurry 
I'm  quite  agreeable  to  take  ye  up  behind  me." 

On  this  she  stopped  suddenly,  and  his  horse's 
104 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

pace  carried  him  beyond  her.  But  he  reined  in 
and,  dismounting,  was  beside  her  again  in  a 
moment. 

"  Don't  be  so  shy,  acushla,"  he  whispered  in 
his  most  winning  tones.  "  Just  come  along  with 
me.  It's  only  a  short  mile  or  two  home,  walkin' 
or  ridin'  yer  choice,  an'  ye'll  find  me  the  height 
of  pleasant  company." 

Molly  would  fain  have  retained  her  incognito, 
but  he  attempted  to  slip  his  arm  round  her  as  he 
spoke,  and  she  was  terrified.  She  twisted  her- 
self out  of  his  grasp  and  faced  him. 

"For  shame,  Mat  O'Hara,"  she  cried. 
"  Don't  you  dare  to  lay  a  finger  on  me." 

Mat  recognised  her  on  the  instant.  The 
voice  was  enough  even  if  he  had  not  seen  the 
face,  and  he  was  momentarily  taken  aback.  If 
the  man  had  been  quite  sober  it  is  probable  he 
would  have  muttered  an  apology  and  gone  on 
his  way.  But  he  had  come  to  Liscarrick  well 
primed,  and  he  had  not  been  slow  to  accept 
Bob's  sulky  proffer  of  refreshment,  so,  his  native 
impudence  coming  to  his  aid,  he  stood  his 
ground. 

"So  it's  yourself,  is  it?"  he  said.  "I 
couldn't  make  out  who  was  in  it,  but  one  niver 
knows  his  luck.  Now  Miss  Molly,  av  ye  plaze, 
I'll  take  that  kiss  I  didn't  get  awhile  ago,  though 
I  ped  dear  enough  for  it." 

"Stand  back!"  she  cried.  "I'll  hit  harder 
this  time." 

"  That  I'll  go  bail  ye  won't,"  retorted  O'Hara, 
and  he  seized  the  girl's  wrists.       "  Now,    me 
lady,"  he  growled,  "  I  think  I've  go!  ye." 
105 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

But  Molly  fought  like  a  wild  cat,  sending  forth 
shriek  after  shriek  into  the  stillness  of  the 
night. 

"  The  divil  take  ye,  will  ye  stop  that  yowlin'," 
panted  O'Hara.  All  the  obstinacy  of  his  nature 
was  aroused,  and  he  was  determined  to  have  that 
kiss,  cost  what  it  might.  But  Molly  struggled 
fiercely,  though  with  failing  strength,  as  the 
man  gradually  over-mastered  her  resistance. 

With  a  last  despairing  scream  for  help  she 
suddenly  threw  herself  on  the  ground,  thereby 
breaking  for  the  moment  his  hold  on  her  wrists. 
At  the  same  instant  a  powerful  grip  fell  on 
O'Hara's  collar  from  behind,  plucking  him 
backward. 

•*'  You  blackguard,"  uttered  Jack  Whalen's 
voice ;  "  how  dare  you  ?  " 

And  at  the  words,  which  seemed  to  her  the 
most  welcome  she  had  ever  heard,  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life  Molly  fainted. 

"  Mind  yer  own  business,"  yelled  the  infuri- 
ated Squireen,  turning  savagely  on  the  new- 
comer. "  Mayn't  a  man  kiss  his  own 
daughter?" 

"No,  nor  anyone  else's  against  her  will  while 
I'm  around,"  was  Jack's  reply. 

"  Lave  this  while  the  goin's  good,"  thundered 
Mat,  "  or  I'll  give  ye  a  clip  at  the  back  of  the 
lug  that'll  sicken  ye." 

"  Try  it,"  responded  Jack,  tersely. 

And  Mat  did  try  it,  to  his  immediate  discom- 
fiture.    Jack  Whalen's  hands  had  been  taught  to 
keep  his  head,  and  in  a  moment  the  bully  was 
rolling  on   the   frosty   road. 
106 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"If  you  want  any  more,  I've  plenty  left," 
said  Jack,  but  the  Squireen  apparently  was  satis- 
fied, and  scrambling  to  his  feet,  stumbled  to- 
wards his  horse. 

But  Jack  was  before  him,  and  giving  the 
animal  a  hearty  smack  on  the  quarter,  he  started 
it  down  the  road. 

"  You  can  walk,"  he  observed.  "  It  will  cool 
your  hot  blood,  and  there  will  be  a  moon 
directly." 

So  Mat  O'Hara  walked. 

The  dragon  thus  disposed  of,  Jack  turned  to 
seek  the  damsel  in  distress  whom  he  had  rescued. 
In  the  darkness  and  confusion,  he  had  recog- 
nised neither  Molly  nor  O'Hara.  She  was  sit- 
ting up  when  he  reached  her,  for  her  momentary 
unconsciousness  had  lasted  scarce  longer  than 
the  winking  of  an  eyelid.  It  was  rather  the 
protest  of  overstrained  nerves  than  the  result  of 
physical  exhaustion. 

He  stretched  out  his  hand  to  help  her  to  her 
feet. 

She  took  it  and  rose,  and  then  he  knew  her. 

"  Molly!"  he  exclaimed. 

She  thought  her  pretty  Irish  name  had  never 
sounded  so  sweet  as  now  when  she  heard  it  for 
the  first  time  from  his  lips. 

"Molly,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  had  no  idea — 
why,  what  a  fortunate  thing  I  came  by  this  road. 
Who  was  that  ruffian?" 

But  Molly  reflected.     "  If  I  tell  him  who  it 
was,  he  will  not  stop  at  this,  and  O'Hara  is  so 
persistent    and    unscrupulous,    mischief    might 
come  of  their  meeting,"  so  she  replied: 
107 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"Some  drunken  beast.  I  shouldn't  have 
come  out  of  the  place  at  all  so  late.  It's  fair  day 
at  Drine  and  the  roads  are  full  of  them." 

"  Indeed  you  should  not,"  assented  Jack. 
"  It  was  the  merest  chance  I  came  this  road.  I 
was  just  debating  if  I  could  have  missed  my  way 
when  I  heard  you  scream." 

"  Thank  God  you  did,"  said  Molly,  fervently. 

"Thank  God  indeed,"  he  repeated,  as  he 
stooped  to  grope  for  his  gun,  which  he  had  drop- 
ped at  the  moment  of  his  encounter  with  O'Hara. 

It  was  quickly  found,  and  the  two  paced  along 
the  darkling  lane  together. 

Much  may  be  said  in  a  two  mile  walk,  and 
Molly's  tongue  was  not  idle.  Only  keeping 
back  the  identity. of  her  late  assailant,  she  gave 
her  companion  a  full  account  of  the  afternoon's 
happenings  at  Liscarrick.  He  heard  her  in  con- 
sternation. 

"  But  this  is  too  terrible,"  he  said.  "  Do  you 
mean  to  tell  me  that  your  mother  is  really  in — 
really  cares  for  that  creature?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  she  does,"  answered  the  girl,  "  at 
any  rate,  she  fancies  she  does." 

"Then,  Molly,  this  is  no  fit  home  for  you !  " 

"  Molly  "  again!  She  heard  it  with  a  faint, 
delightful  flutter  at  the  heart.  It  seemed  to  mean 
so  much  as  he  spoke  it.  But  she  answered 
calmly  enough. 

"  If  Mat  O'Hara  comes  to  Liscarrick,  it  cer- 
tainly is  no  home  for  me  or  any  decent  person. 
But  what  can  one  do?  " 

Then  Jack  spoke.  He  was  only  a  struggling 
journalist,  he  said;  he  had  not  much  to  offer 
108 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

her;  but  what  he  had  was  hers,  and  he  loved 
her  with  his  whole  heart.  Would  she?  could 
she?  and  much  more  to  the  same  purpose. 

And  Molly  thought  she  could,  and  said  she 
would. 

By  the  time  this  was  fully  understood  and 
settled  they  had  reached  Liscarrick.  Lights 
were  burning  in  the  hall,  and  they  paused  a 
moment  in  the  dusk  of  the  porch  for  the  final 
words  that  always  seem  to  leave  still  more  to 
say.  Jack  took  her  hand,  but  he  fancied  she 
shrank  from  him. 

"Molly!"   he  whispered,    reproachfully. 

"Oh,  it  isn't  that,"  she  said,  quick  to  inter- 
pret his  meaning.  "  Here's  my  hand,  only  go 
gently  with  my  wrist,  for  it's  very  painful." 

He  led  her  into  the  lighted  hall  and  bent  to 
examine  the  little  hand.  When  he  saw  the 
liivid  marks  on  the  white  arm  he  drew  in  his 
breath  wdth  a  sharp  intake. 

"  That  cursed  brute!  I  wish  I  hadn't  let  him 
off  so  easily." 

Then  he  stopped  and  let  fall  on  the  bruised 
flesh  a  kiss  as  light  as  a  snowBake. 

"  Poor  you  !  "  he  whispered. 

Gerald,  emerging  from  the  library  at  the  con- 
clusion of  his  "smoke  and  think,"  saw  the 
action.  They  did  not  observe  him,  and  he 
turned,  and  very  quietly  re-entered  the  room. 


109 


CHAPTER   XII. 

MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER. 

WHEN  they  parted  in  the  hall  Jack  sought  the 
library  where  he  found  Gerald,  and  after  en- 
during a  certain  amount  of  good  natured  chaff, 
poured  into  his  friend's  sympathetic  ear  the  tale 
of  his  newly-found  happiness. 

Molly  went  straight  to  her  mother. 

Mrs.  Delaney  was  dressing  for  dinner — an 
operation  of  some  duration  as  the  lady  conducted 
it,  and  involving  no  little  skill.  Molly,  who  was 
hot  and  cold  by  turns  as  she  recalled  her  adven- 
ture on  the  bog  road,  hardly  waited  for  a  reply 
to  her  knock  ere  she  burst  into  the  room. 

11  Mamma,  I've  been  grossly  insulted  by  Mr. 
O'Hara!" 

Mrs.  Delaney,  still  poising  her  powder-puff, 
stared  at  her  daughter  open-mouthed. 

"  You're  dreaming,  child.  Mr.  O'Hara  went 
home  hours  ago." 

"  Maybe  so,  but  he  met  me  on  Ihe  lower  road, 
beyond  the  lime-kiln,  and  was  dreadfully  rude  to 
me,"  maintained  the  girl,  her  cheeks  flaming 
anew  as  she  recalled  the  circumstances. 

"How  long  ago  was  this?"  asked  Mrs. 
Delaney,  with  a  provoking  air  of  incredulity. 
"  I  heard  half-past  four  strike  sometime  before 
he  left." 

"  Five  o'clock,  or  thereabouts,"  answered 
Molly  shortly. 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"Dark  night!"  said  her  mother.  "How 
often  have  I  told  you  not  to  wander  about  the 
roads  so  late,  and  Drine  fair  of  all  nights." 

"  I  was  wrong  to  go  out,  I  admit," — but  there 
was  no  penitence  in  Molly's  tone, — "  I  went 
further  than  I  intended.  I  didn't  think  where 
I  was  going,  I  was  so  put  out  at — at  what  I 
heard  to-day.  But  that's  no  reason  the  man 
should  have  insulted  me." 

"I'm  sure  he  never  meant  to  insult  you,  dear. 
You  are  too  touchy.  His  manner  may  be  a 
little  brusque  at  times,  but  his  heart  is  in  the 
right  place." 

"Brusque,  do  you  call  it?  Look  at  my 
wrists,"  and  Molly  slipped  off  the  bed  where 
she  had  seated  herself  and  held  out  her  arms 
for  her  mother's  inspection. 

"  Molly,  dear,  how  you're  bruised.  Wait  a 
minute;  I've  some  Pond's  extract  somewhere," 
and  Mrs.  Delaney  began  to  open  and  shut 
drawers  in  an  unavailing  search.  "  Will  you 
tell  me  what  happened?" 

"I've  been  trying  to,"  said  the  girl,  "but 
you  seem  not  to  believe  me.  I  tell  you  this 
precious  O'Hara  of  yours  overtook  me  on  the 
bog  road  and  insulted  me  and  held  my  hands 
till  he  hurt  me  like  this,  and  tried  to  kiss  me — 
Ugh ! '  and  Molly's  face  was  eloquent  of  her 
disgust. 

"  Impossible!     Mr.  O'Hara  is  a  gentleman." 

"Is  he?"  retorted  Molly.  "  Anyhow,  I'm 
telling  you  what  he's  done.  Make  the  most  of 
it." 

fSI'm    not    doubting   you,    dear,"    said    the 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

mother,  woefully  perplexed  and  perturbed,  "  only 
I  think  you  must  be  mistaken.  We  all  know 
there  are  horrid  drunken  men  about  every  fair 
day,  but  it  was  five  o'clock,  you  say.  It  must 
have  been  as  dark  as  pitch.  How  do  you  know 
it  was  Mr.  O'Hara?" 

"  How  do  I  know  anything  ?     I  saw  him " 

"In  the  dark,"  interposed  Mrs.  Delaney. 

"  You  must  take  me  for  a  fool,"  exclaimed  her 
daughter  hotly,  for  her  patience  was  exhausted. 
"  And  I  heard  his  voice,"  she  added. 

"  Mr.  O'Hara  has  the  accent  of  the  country. 
You  may  easily  have  been  mistaken  in  the 
voice." 

"  Oh,  very  well !  None  so  blind  as  those  who 
will  not  see.  I  say  it  was  O'Hara,  and  I  was 
there  and  you  were  not,"  and  Molly  moved  to- 
wards the  door. 

"  Nonsense,"  said  the  elder  lady,  growing 
irritable  in  her  turn.  "  It  was  quite  easy  for  you 
to  make  a  mistake — I  know  your  prejudice 
against  the  poor  fellow,  but  Mat  is  quite  too 
much  the  gentleman  to  be  guilty  of  such  a 
thing." 

11  Maybe  so,"  said  Molly  quietly,  "  but  I  hold 
my  own  opinion  still." 

"  Stopping  you  on  the  road !  The  idea,"  pur- 
sued the  widow,  beginning  to  realise  that,  if 
Molly  were  to  be  believed,  her  lover's  fealty  to 
her  own  charms  must  be  slight  indeed.  "  The 
idea !  as  if  he  would  be  likely  to  bother  his  head 
about  a  chit  of  a  girl  like  you." 

"  If  that's  the  way  you  look  at  it,  there's  no 
more  to  be  said,"  observed  Molly,  opening  the 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

door.  She  looked  back  to  add:  "And  please 
say  nothing  about  the  matter  downstairs.  Above 
all,  don't  say  I  accused  Mat  O'Hara." 

"I  certainly  shall  not,"  assented  Mrs. 
Delaney.  "  I  am  little  likely  to  countenance 
such  a  charge  against  my  affianced  husband,  and 
I  am  not  anxious  that  your  uncle  or  his  friend 
should  know  you  went  outside  the  place  after 
dark  on  such  a  night  as  this." 

Mrs.  Delaney  was  angry,  and  anger  made  her 
unjust.  Moreover,  she  could  not  quite  bring 
herself  to  think  that  there  was  not  some  founda- 
tion for  her  daughter's  unshakeable  opinion,  and 
jealousy  stirred  within  her.  That  a  man  should 
vow  eternal  love  for  her  and  then  go,  with  her 
kisses  on  his  lips,  to  seek  a  similar  favour  from 
another  woman,  and  that  woman  her  daughter! 
No,  she  would  not  believe  unless  she  heard  it 
from  himself.  It  was  unthinkable. 

Molly  closed  the  door  and  sought  her  room, 
where  she  proceeded  to  overhaul  her  scanty  ward- 
robe with  a  view  to  selecting  the  dress  whose 
sleeves  came  down  most  closely  to  cover  the 
wrists. 

Her  simple  toilet  completed,  she  ran  down- 
stairs, hoping  to  secure  a  quiet  ten  minutes  with 
her  uncle  before  dinner. 

Gerald  was  pacing  up  and  down  the  hall.  He 
had  been  much  upset  by  the  day's  happenings, 
and  the  definite  news  of  Molly's  engagement  was 
the  sole  thing  that  pleased  him.  He  was  looking 
out  for  her,  and  when  she  appeared  he  led  her 
into  the  library.  After  he  had  duly  kissed  and 
congratulated  her,  he  asked, 

"3 

H 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"  Now,  Molly,  what  is  all  this  Jack  has  been 
telling  me  about  a  drunken  ruffian  attacking  you 
on  the  bog  road  ?  ' ' 

"He  wasn't  drunk,  at  least  he  seemed  no 
drunker  than  usual,"  she  replied.  "  It  was  Mat 
O'Hara." 

"  My  God!  "  cried  Gerald,  falling  back  a  step 
in  his  amazement.  "You  can't  mean  that!" 

"  It  is  perfectly  true,"  asserted  Molly. 

'*  And  he  ....  Well,  I  had  no  high  opinion 
of  him,  but  I  didn't  conceive  he  could  be  such  a 
blackguard  as  that.  And  he  caught  hold  of 
you,  and  hurt  your  arms  cruelly,  Jack  says. 
Let  me  look.  Oh,  I  see,  you  have  them  covered 
up." 

"  As  well  as  I  could,"  Molly  answered,  push- 
ing back  her  tight  sleeve  a  little  way.  "There 
you  can  just  see." 

1 '  The  d d  brute, ' '  cried  her  uncle.  ' '  Well 

we  have  him  now,  I  think.  But  Jack  spoke  as 
if  he  did  not  know  him.  I  gathered  that  it  was 
the  act  of  some  casual  ruffian." 

"Jack  did  not  recognise  him.  It  was  very 
dark,  and  the  whole  thing  didn't  take  a  minute. 
And  I  don't  want  him  to  know  who  it  was. 
Uncle,  you  must  promise  me  not  to  tell  him." 

"Why?"  asked  Gerald,  surprised. 

"  Oh  Uncle,  I'd  be  so  ashamed  if  he  knew.  I 
never  could  look  him  in  the  face  again.  It's  bad 
enough  while  he  thinks  it  was  just  a  drunken 
man  from  the  fair — but  someone  he's  met  in  this 
house!  Oh,  promise,  uncle!" 

"  All  right.  I'll  let  it  go  at  that  so  far  as  Jack 
is  concerned,"  said  Gerald.  "  But  there's  one 
114 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

person  who  must  be  told,  and  told  at  once,  and 
that's  your  mother." 

"I've  told  her,  not  half  an  hour  ago," 
answered  Molly. 

"You  have!    Well,  what  did  she  say?" 

11  She  didn't  believe  me,"  said  Molly  shortly. 

"Not  believe  you!  But  that's  absurd.  Did 
she  see  the  state  of  your  wrists?  " 

"  Oh,  she  believes  someone  attacked  me,  but 
Mr.  O'Hara  is  quite  too  much  of  a  gentleman  in 
her  eyes  to  make  such  behaviour  on  his  part  con- 
ceivable." 

"She's  a  pretty  judge  of  a  gentleman,"  mut- 
tered Gerald  bitterly. 

He  referred  to  the  fact,  well  nigh  forgotten 
in  the  changed  neighbourhood  but  vividly  re- 
membered in  the  family  circle  of  the  proud 
Delaneys,  that  Emmie  Hogan  had  originally 
come  to  Liscarrick  in  the  humble  capacity  of 
nursery  governess,  though  she  had  remained  to 
marry  the  eldest  son  of  the  house,  and  rule  there 
after  he  had  gone. 

Molly  quite  understood  the  reference. 
"  Mamma  is  infatuated  about  this  fellow,  that  is 
clear,"  she  said.  "She'll  believe  nothing 
against  him,  and  if  she  did  I  don't  suppose  it 
would  make  much  difference." 

"She  must  believe,"  replied  Gerald  with  em- 
phasis. "There's  the  gong,  dear,  run  along. 
I  won't  tell  Jack,  only  you  must  change  this 
anxious,  troubled  face.  That's  no  kind  of  a 
mug  for  a  newly-engaged  young  lady  to  present 
to  her  lover." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  SQUIREEN'S  VERSION. 

THE  next  morning's  post  bag  brought  Mrs. 
Delaney  her  first  letter  from  the  Squireen.  It 
was  certainly  a  love  letter,  if  passionate  phrases 
and  terms  of  endearment  could  make  it  such,  but 
to  the  lady  it  was  more  precious  still,  since  it 
proved  that  Mat  could  not  possibly  have  been  the 
guilty  person  in  the  affair  of  the  previous 
evening. 

He  had  met  with  an  accident  overnight,  he 
wrote,  and  would  have  to  keep  his  bed  for  a  few 
days.  Nothing  serious ;  his  dearest  Emmie  was 
not  to  be  uneasy,  but  the  fact  was  he  had  not 
gone  straight  home  on  leaving  Liscarrick,  but 
had  ridden  into  Drine  to  assist  Tim  Reilly,  his 
herd,  in  driving  home  some  store  bullocks  from 
the  fair.  "  The  beasts,"  he  explained,  "  was  up 
in  themselves  and  mighty  unaisy  to  handle. 
One  of  them  made  a  run  at  me  and  rolled  me  over 
on  the  road,  and  two  or  three  of  them  stepped 
on  me.  I  think  no  bones  is  broke,  but  I'm  a  bit 
shook,  and  one  of  them  put  his  foot  on  my  face 
and  left  it  very  sore.  It'll  be  a  few  days  afore 
I  can  get  round  to  see  you,  and  that  hurts  me 
more  nor  my  face." 

And  so  with  much  love  and  many  crosses  taste- 
fully executed  in  ink,  he  signed  himself  "Your 
loving  Mat." 

This  was  a  perfect  alibi,  and  proved  that  Molly 
116 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

had  been  mistaken,  to  her  mother's  entire  satis- 
faction. But,  strangely  enough,  the  girl  did  not 
accept  it.  Indeed,  she  roundly  asserted  that 
there  was  only  a  single  statement  she  could 
believe  in  the  whole  letter,  and  that  was  that 
O'Hara's  face  would  not  be  presentable  for  a 
few  days.  Asked  why  this  should  find  more 
credence  than  the  rest,  Molly  hesitated  and 
changed  colour,  for  she  remembered,  only  just  in 
time,  that  she  had  not  explained  to  her  mother 
how  she  had  escaped  from  her  assailant,  nor 
alluded  to  Jack  Whalen's  share  in  the  matter  in 
any  way. 

€<  Well,  since  you  are  so  obstinate,"  said  Mrs. 
Delaney,  irritably.  "  perhaps  you'd  like  me  to 
send  for  Tim  Reilly  and  question  him?" 

"  Waste  of  time,"  answered  Molly,  curtly.  "I 
wouldn't  believe  either  of  them  on  oath.  What 
one  says  the  other  swears  to." 

So  mother  and  daughter  were  as  far  from 
agreeing  as  ever,  but  the  pangs  of  jealousy 
which,  spite  of  herself,  had  tortured  the  elder 
lady,  were  assuaged. 

The  post  brought  also  a  note  from  Miss 
Fetherstone  inviting  the  Liscarrick  party  to  lun- 
cheon, and  admonishing  the  young  people  to 
bring  their  skates,  for  the  frost  had  increased  in 
intensity,  and  there  was  every  indication  that  the 
ice  on  the  Priory  pond  would  bear. 

There  was  much  overhauling  of  derelict  skates 
and  fitting  of  straps,  for  such  occasions  come  but 
rarely  in  Ireland,  and  must  be  promptly  seized 
when  they  appear. 

Gerald  and  his  nephew  were  engaged  in  this 
117 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

occupation        when       the      latter       remarked, 

"  Good  job  O'Hara  is  laid  up,  and  won't  be 
louting  around  here  for  some  time  to  come.  The 
only  pity  is  that  beast  of  a  bullock  didn't  dash 
his  brains  out  when  it  was  about  it." 

For  Bob  fully  accepted  the  O'Hara  version  of 
the  accident.  Indeed,  he  had  not  been  told  of 
his  sister's  adventure  at  all. 

"It  might  have  simplified  matters,"  agreed 
Gerald,  smiling,  as  he  recalled  the  real  cause  of 
the  Squireen's  injuries,  "  but  I  think  you'll  find 
he'll  live  to  plague  us  yet.  And  bear  in  mind 
there  are  not  many  days  to  run  before  that  big 
note  of  ours  falls  due." 

"Oh,  they'll  renew,"  remarked  Bob,  with  his 
usual  optimism. 

"Bob,  you're  incorrigible!"  exclaimed  his 
uncle.  "  There's  nothing  gained  by  renewing. 
The  debt  only  grows  bigger,  and  has  to  be  paid 
in  the  end.  No  sign  of  an  offer  for  the  horse, 
I  suppose?" 

"  Not  a  nibble,"  replied  Bob,  morosely.  This 
was  a  sore  subject  with  him.  Under  pressure 
he  had  agreed  to  sell  the  animal  if  a  reasonable 
price  could  be  obtained,  but  secretly  he  believed 
in  it  as  much  as  ever,  and  took  no  active  steps 
to  find  a  purchaser. 

"  Surely,  if  the  brute  is  worth  anything  at  all 
someone  would  make  some  kind  of  offer,"  said 
Gerald,  impatiently.  "  I'll  put  in  an  advertise- 
ment." 

"  Don't  do  that,"  cried  his  nephew,  apprehen- 
sively. "  That's  the  sure  way  to  make  little  of 
him.  Who  ever  heard  of  a  thoroughbred  adver- 
118 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

Used  for  sale  like  a  shire  mare.      Better  wait  our 
chance,  it's  sure  to  come." 

"There's  one  thing  surer  to  come,"  retorted 
the  other,  "and  that's  the  day  our  note  will  be 
presented,  and,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  protested." 

"Look  here,  uncle  mine;  do  be  reasonable. 
Here's  a  hard  frost;  the  roads  are  lifie  glass,  the 
ground  is  like  iron.  I  daren't  take  Liscarrick  out 
of  the  yard  to  show  him — let  alone  sell  him.  And 
we  must  get  our  price  for  him,  and  a  bit  more. 
It  will  take  well  over  sixteen  hundred  to  clear  us 
as  it  is.  Sell  him  at  a  loss,  and  we're  worse  off 
than  ever." 

"I  could  make  up  some  part  of  if,"  said 
Gerald,  gloomily,  and  relapsed  into  silence.  He 
had  a  keener  appreciation  of  Bob's  selfishness 
than  he  had  had  a  month  before.  If  the  transac- 
tion were  to  do  again,  so  he  told  himself,  his  sig- 
nature would  be  lacking. 

There's  another  thing,"  he  presently  re- 
sumed. "  This  business  of  your  mother's. 
That  must  be  stopped." 

"  Rather,"  assented  his  nephew,  vaguely,  but 
with  emphasis. 

"Now,  attend  to  me,"  Gerald  went  on.  'I 
want  you  to  ask  O'Hara  to  the  tenant's  spree  on 
Thursday." 

"Ask  O'Hara!"  repeated  Bob,  astonished. 
Then,  after  a  considerable  pause,  "Molly  won't 
like  that." 

"Of  course  she  won't.  For  the  matter  of  that, 
none  of  us'll  like  it.  But  he's  got  to  be  invite'd 
;and  made  much  of,  just  the  same !" 

"  All  right,"  replied  Boti,  •"  I  know  you  have 
no 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

some  game  up  to  dish  the  beggar,  but  hang  me  if 
I  understand  it." 

"It  isn't  necessary  that  you  should.  Only  be 
as  nice  as  pie  to  him.  We  might  even  have  him 
to  dinner  that  night.  Jove,  that's  a  good  idea," 
cried  Gerald,  with  something  like  enthusiasm. 
"  The  longer  we  have  him  with  us  the 
better." 

"  Can't  say  I  agree  with  you,"  growled  Bob. 
"  However,  have  it  your  own  way.  We'll  ask 
him  to  dinner,  and  what  then  ?" 

"That's  simple.  See  that  all  the  decanters  are 
full,  and  don't  be  shy  to  push  them  round," 
answered  his  uncle.  "They  say  that  Mat  O'Hara 
is  drunk  every  night  of  his  life.  Your  mother 
has  never  seen  him  so.  Let  us  try  if  her  sensi- 
bilities will  stand  the  spectacle." 

"Faith,  that's  a  ripping  fine  idea,"  exclaimed 
Bob.  "  If  there's  one  thing  the  mater  can't 
endure  it's  a  drunken  man." 

"  I  can  quite  believe  that,"  answered  Gerald, 
who  remembered  that  his  brother  had  been  a 
convivial  soul,  and  not  always  the  pleasantest 
company  in  his  cups. 

"  When  Mat's  drunk  he's  a  holy  terror.  I've 
seen  him  many  a  time,"  remarked  Bob.  Then, 
as  a  thought  struck  him,  he  fell  suddenly  grave. 
"  But  what  if  that  bullock  has  mauled  him  so  he 
can't  get  around?" 

"  Oh,  he'll  be  right  enough  before  Christ- 
mas," answered  Gerald  lightly.  "  I  don't  be- 
lieve the  bullock  in  question  did  more  than 
enough  to  spoil  his  beauty  for  a  few  days." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  other  doubtfully, 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"  some  of  those  beasts  are  vicious  enough  to  kill 
a  man." 

"I'm  afraid  this  one  stopped  short  of  that 
extremity,"  laughed  Gerald.  "But  if  he  can't 
come  Christmas,  we'll  put  the  whole  fandango 
off  till  New  Year.  We've  got  to  have  him. 
It's  our  last  chance,  and,  I  believe,  a  good  one." 

Bob  mused  on  this  pronouncement,  and  then 
his  thoughts  turned  again  to  "the  little  harse." 
He  believed  it  would  be  sheer  madness  to  sell, 
and  yet  his  uncle  was  immovable.  Well,  so  far, 
the  evil  day  had  been  postponed,  and  who  could 
say  what  luck  the  future  might  hold  for  him. 

The  big  clock  in  the  hall,  chiming  the  quar- 
ters preparatory  to  striking,  interrupted  his 
meditations. 

"Time  we  started,"  he  observed.  "We'll 
have  to  hoof  it,  you  know.  None  of  the  horses 
are  cocked." 

"I'm  ready,"  said  Gerald,  slinging  the  skate 
straps  over  his  shoulder.  "  Where  are  Jack 
and  Molly?" 

"  Gone  half  an  hour  ago;  and  the  mater  isn't 
coming,  so  we  may  as  well  make  a  move.  I  say," 
Bob  continued,  as  they  swung  down  the  avenue 
at  a  good  pace,  "you've  heard  about  that  pair? 
Molly  and  Jack,  I  mean  ?" 

"  I  have,"  answered  his  uncle.  "  Jack  told  me 
last  night.  Are  you  pleased?"  he  added,  with 
some  curiosity. 

"  Rather,"  answered  Bob.  "  He  seems  a  right 
good  sort,  and  it's  about  the  best  thing  could 
have  happened  for  Molly.  She  hasn't  exactly 
a  rosy  time  of  it  here." 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"I  quite  agree,"  said  Gerald,  rather  bitterly, 
as  he  reflected  how  little  her  brother  had  done  to 
lighten  his  sister's  burdens,  and  how  much,  albeit 
indirectly  and  unconsciously,  he  had  added  to 
them. 

11  Molly  is  in  luck,"  pursued  Bob. 

"She  is,"  assented  Gerald,  "and  so  is  Jack 
Whalen." 

They  stepped  briskly  out,  their  footsteps  ring- 
ing clear  on  the  frosty  road,  for  they  were  ambi- 
tious to  accomplish  the  distance  within  the  hour  if 
possible.  And  as  they  walked  they  elaborated  the 
details  of  the  contemplated  exposure  of  O'Hara. 

"  For  remember,  Bob,"  his  uncle  said,  "  that 
this  is  the  last  chance — the  last  for  me,  at  any 
rate.  I  can't  stay  on  here  for  ever.  I'll  have  to 
be  making  tracks  in  a  few  weeks." 

"Where  to?"  asked  Bob. 

"  Back  to  San  Francisco,  of  course." 

"What  for?" 

"  To  earn  my  living,  laddie,  which  I  had 
started  in  to  do  before  I  was  your  age." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Bob.  "You  have 
brains  and  all  that.  I  haven't."  He  felt 
aggrieved  at  his  uncle's  announcement,  and 
viewed  the  prospect  of  being  compelled  to  face 
his  own  difficulties  unaided  with  anything  but 
satisfaction.  "  I  don't  see  the  good  of  it,"  he 
remarked,  after  some  minutes  of  inward  self- 
communing.  "You've  money  enough." 

"  For  the  moment,  my  boy,"  said  his  uncle 
lightly.  "  But  you  know  well  enough  that  I'm 
no  millionaire,  and  other  people  know  it  by  this 
time,  I  should  hope." 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"Not  from  me,"  muttered  Bob,  inaudibly, 
who,  indeed,  had  spared  no  pains  to  spread  the 
fiction  of  his  uncle's  wealth  wherever  he  found 
an  opportunity.  "Not  from  me,  and  I  hope 
you've  had  the  sense  to  keep  your  own  head 
shut." 

But  this  was  not  meant  for  Gerald's  ears, 
nor  did  it  reach  them,  and  the  two  passed 
through  the  stately  gates  of  the  old  Priory 
without  discussing  the  subject  further. 


123 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

"  I  SHALL  NEVER  FORGET  THIS   EVENING." 

BRIGHT  sunshine,  pure  invigorating  air,  and  ice 
in  perfect  condition  had  combined  to  make  Miss 
Fetherstone's  skating  party  an  emphatic  success. 
The  young  people  from  the  Rectory  were  there, 
and  a  few  more — considering  the  depleted  con- 
dition of  the  neighbourhood,  it  was  quite  a  con- 
siderable gathering;  but  no  one  ever  refused  an 
invitation  to  the  Priory,  however  short  the 
notice.  All  day  the  picturesque  banks  of  the 
pond  had  echoed  merry  laughter  and  ceaseless 
chaff,  and  the  ice-imprisoned  Undine  in  the 
depths  had  hummed  a  welcome  to  the  steel-shod 
feet  which  had  never  ceased  to  plough  its  frozen 
surface.  Even  now,  when  the  afternoon  was 
fast  giving  place  to  night,  and  stars  began  to 
twinkle  here  and  there  in  the  darkening  blue 
above,  enthusiastic  skaters  were  still  pursuing 
each  other  in  games,  or  taking  station  for  quad- 
rilles on  the  smooth,  grey  ice. 

Kate  and  Gerald  were  slowly  climbing  the 
steep  path  that  led  up  to  the  house.  She  looked 
very  handsome,  a  tall  graceful  figure  in  her  furs, 
and  recent  exercise  had  given  to  her  cheeks  the 
touch  of  colour  which  they  sometimes  lacked. 

Gerald  walked  beside  her,  swinging  a  pair  of 

skates  in  either  hand.     Earlier  in  the  day  he  had 

found  opportunity  to  acquaint  her  with  the  recent 

occurrences  at  Liscarrick,  but  their  conversation 

124 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

had  been  interrupted  and  fragmentary,  as 
occasion  served.  Now  he  had  given  her  the 
whole  tale,  beginning  with  the  Squireen's  pro- 
posal to  Mrs.  Delaney,  and  going  on  to  Molly's 
adventure  on  the  Bog  road,  and  her  under- 
standing, as  yet  unannounced,  with  Jack 
Whalen. 

Miss  Fetherstone  was  deeply  concerned.  She 
was  genuinely  delighted  at  the  news  of  Molly's 
engagement  to  her  cousin,  and  was  already  con- 
sidering in  her  warm  heart  what  she  could  do  to 
make  smoother  their  path  for  the  young  lovers, 
but  Mrs.  Delaney's  position  and  the  attitude  she 
assumed  moved  her  at  once  to  pity  and  to  anger. 

"  It's  incredible!  "  she  cried  hotly.  "  That  a 
woman  in  your  sister-in-law's  position  could 
stoop  to  even  think  of  such  a  creature  as  O'Hara. 
Why,  the  man  drinks,  if  there  were  nothing 
else." 

"  I  don't  think  Emmie  knows  that,"  said 
Gerald. 

"  But  she's  bound  to  find  it  out,  sooner  or 
later." 

'"Yes,"  he  assented,  "she's  bound  to  find  it 
out,  and  if  I  can  manage  it,  it  will  be  sooner,  not 
later." 

tf  You  haven't  told  her,  then  ?  " 

"Of  O'Hara's  drinking  habits?  Yes,  I 
have,"  he  replied,  "but  there's  no  use  telling 
Emmie  anything  about  the  man.  She  won't 
believe  you,  unless  it  is  proved  to  demonstration, 
and  even  then  she  doubts.  Look  at  the  way  the 
brute  treated  Molly.  Yet  nothing  will  persuade 
her  that  O'Hara  had  anything  to  do  with  it." 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

•"  Poor  Molly,"  sighed  Kate  pitifully,  and 
then  fell  silent  for  a  moment.  She  more  than 
half  envied  the  girl,  even  while  she  commiser- 
ated her.  Wooed  for  herself,  won  for  herself, 
with  a  future  of  hope  and  struggle,  of  love  and. 
happiness  before  her;  would  such — could  such 
ever  be  her  own  destiny  ?  The  shadow  of  the 
great  distillery  seemed  to  fall  across  her  path, 
and  her  mood  darkened  with  the  darkening  twi- 
light. Half  involuntarily  she  spoke  her  mind. 

"Yet  I  don't  see  why  I  should  say  'Poor 
Molly.'  Hers  promises  to  be  a  very  happy 
future." 

"I  think  so,"  assented  Gerald.  "She's  a 
good  little  girl,  and  Jack's  a  real  good  sort. 
They  will  be  hard  up,  of  course,"  he  continued 
meditatively,  "  for  a  while,  at  any  rate." 

"  That's  it,"  Kate  broke  in  impetuously. 
11  They  have  chosen  each  other  just  for  love. 
There's  no  other  possible  reason.  That's  why 
I'm  sure  they'll  be  happy.  That's  why  I  envy 
Molly." 

Gerald  by  this  time  knew  his  companion  in 
most  of  her  moods,  and  he  saw  that  she  was 
verging  perilously  on  the  morbid.  He  had  seen 
her  in  this  vein  more  than  once,  and  did  not 
hesitate  to  speak  out. 

"  Drop  it,"  he  said  lightly,  "  I  know  where 
you're  drifting  to  and  I  won't  have  it.  You  are 
jolly  well  off,  and  your  position  is  the  envy  of 
thousands.  Every  shoe  pinches,  and  only  the 
wearer  knows  where,  but  in  my  opinion  trlat  old 
shoemaker,  Fate,  has  provided  you  with  an  extra 
comfortable  fit." 

126 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

Kate  laughed,  a  little  ruefully. 

"  Of  course  you're  right — as  right  as  anyone 
can  be  who  has  looked  at  a  thing  from  one  side 
only,  and  that  the  outside.  Well,  here  it  is, 
stated  plainly.  I've  got  money,  Molly  has  got 
love.  Which  of  us  is  the  more  likely  to  be 
happy?  " 

"  Your  turn  will  come,"  he  said,  "  I  never  saw 
a  woman  less  likely  to  go  through  the  world 
loveless." 

With  all  his  restraint  he  felt  that  his  voice 
vibrated  with  intensity,  and  she  noticed  it  too. 

She  answered  him  lightly. 

"  I  haven't  come  to  my  time  of  life  without 
encountering  lovers,  I  assure  you.  I  have  had 
idozens,  and  they  were  one  and  all  devoted — to 
my  stocks  and  shares." 

"You're  incorrigible,"  laughed  Gerald. 
"  You  will  insist  on  finding  crumples  in  your 
rose  leaves." 

"Come,  hadn't  we  better  go  indoors,"  Kate 
said  abruptly.  "They'll  be  wondering  where 
we  are." 

"  Not  yet,"  he  remonstrated. 

Kate  laughed.  "Well,  it  is  pleasant  here, 
and  I'll  try  to  talk  rationally  without  airing  my 
crochets.  Tell  me  about  yourself,  your  life  must 
have  been  full  of  interest.  You  went  to  America 
when  you  were  quite  a  boy,  didn't  you  ?" 

"  Just  turned  twenty,"  answered  Gerald  a  little 
wistfully.  Few  men  can  think  of  their  vanished 
youth  without  a  tinge  of  regret  for  it. 

"  Ah,  that  is  a  career  I  can  respect,"  ex- 
claimed Kate  impulsively.  "  To  face  the  world 
127 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

in  the  first  flush  of  life — a  man  among  men ! 
To  force  it  to  accept  you  and  accord  you  the 
place  you  win  by  your  own  exertion !  It  must 
be  glorious." 

"  Do  you  think  so?  To  sneak  downstairs  on 
tip-toe  of  a  morning,  hoping  to  escape  a  meeting 
with  the  landlady,  yet  fully  conscious  that  you'll 
find  her  waiting  for  you  on  your  return,  with  the 
eternal  question,  '  are  you  going  to  pay  me  that 
six  dollars,  or  are  you  not?'  " 

"  I  see,"  she  answered  thoughtfully.  '  Money 
has  it's  uses  after  all,  but  success  comes  at  last 
— comes  through  your  own  efforts.  That  is 
where  I  envy  you  men.  What  a  triumph  that 
must  be." 

"By  the  time  success  comes — if  it  comes — " 
Gerald  answered  slowly,  "  I  think  one  is  gen- 
erally too  tired  for  such  a  vivid  sensation  as 
triumph.  Satisfaction,  yes,  and  relief  from  the 
long  tension." 

"But  your  homecoming,"  she  insisted. 
"Surely  that  made  amends." 

"What  a  homecoming!"  Gerald  answered 
with  a  laugh  full  of  bitterness.  "  Fancy  coming 
back  to  Liscarrick  to  encounter  a  nightmare  like 
O'Hara.  Ruin  has  come  to  many  an  Irish 
house  in  these  times,  but  surely  it  never  came  in 
such  an  objectionable  shape  as  this." 

It  had  grown  quite  dark  and  they  were  still 
pacing  up  and  down  the  terrace.  But  now, 
sifting  silver  through  the  leafless  beech  boughs, 
a  faint  radiance  whitened  the  gloom.  The  moon 
was  rising.  And  from  far  down  the  path  they 
had  just  climbed  came  the  sound  of  laughing 
128 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

voices.  The  skaters  were  coming  up  from  the 
pond. 

Kate  had  returned  no  answer  to  Gerald's 
outburst.  In  truth  she  did  not  know  what  to 
say.  She  was  deeply  sympathetic,  but  found 
no  words.  It  was  very,  very  hard  on  him. 

"  It  will  be  very  rough  on  Bob,"  she  said  at 
last. 

"Bob!"  echoed  Gerald.  "I  have  no 
sympathy  for  him.  It  was  he  who  brought  this 
blight  on  us  first.  Poor  little  Molly!  She's 
the  one  I  pity.' 

"  Molly  will  marry  soon  and  leave  it  all,"  said 
Kate.  "  That  was  a  swift  wooing.  Do  you 
believe  in  love  at  first  sight?" 

"  I  can't  say  I  do,"  he  answered.  "  A  good 
woman  is  worthy  of  something  better  than  such 
an  explosive  affection.  Jack  saw  quite  enough 
of  Molly  to  know  her  value  before  he  spoke.  I 
don't  believe  a  real  love  can  spring  up  full  grown 
at  sight  of  a  pretty  face." 

"The  poets  are  against  you  there,"  she 
smiled. 

"  Of  course;  they  are  always  against  the  facts. 
Poets  idealize,  nature  realizes.  They  speak 
from  sentiment,  I,  from  experience. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Delaney,  have  you  been  in  love? 
This  grows  most  interesting.  Do  tell  me." 

"  I  didn't  mean  that,"  said  Gerald 
awkwardly.  "  I  should  not  have  said  I  spoke 
from  experience.  Observation  is  the  word  I 
meant  to  use." 

"That's  a  mean  way  to  get  out  of  it,"  she 
retorted,  scanning  his  face  in  the  growing  light, 
iag 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

for  the  moon  was  beginning  to  show  above  the 
trees.  "  Come,  I  hold  you  to  your  experience, 
let  us  have  it." 

"I  have  had  but  one  experience,"  Gerald 
answered  gravely,  yet  with  a  hint  of  suppressed 
passion  in  his  voice.  "It  is  very  recent. 
Some  day  I  may  tell  you  all  about  it." 

She  moved  away  from  him  and  drew  her  furs 
closer  about  her  with  a  little  shiver. 

"  Don't  you  think  we  had  better  go  indoors," 
she  said.  "  Surely  it  is  growing  colder." 

The  bright  vivacity  of  her  manner  had 
vanished  and  Gerald  felt  the  chill  of  the  change 
more  than  the  nip  of  the  frosty  air.  But  he 
persevered. 

"Oh,  don't  go  in  yet.  You  can't  be  cold, 
wrapped  up  like  that." 

She  was  a  creature  of  moods,  many  and 
varied. 

"  It  is  a  perfect  moon,"  she  said,  and  her  tone 
had  changed  again.  "  I'm  enjoying  the  even- 
ing, I  confess.  Sometimes  everything  seems 
perfect,  and  presently  again  nothing  pleases  me. 
And  they  are  the  self  same  things,  too.  Atmos- 
pheric, I  suppose. 

"  '  I  feel  that  I  am  happy,  that  for  me 
A  livelier  emerald  sparkles  in  the  grass, 
A  purer  sapphire  melts  into  the  sea,1  ' 
quoted  Gerald.     "  After  all,  there's  no  sky  like 
the  sky  above  one's  old  home.       How  I  shall 
miss  it  all." 

"  Are  you  leaving  us  then?"  she  asked,  and 
Kc  listened  for  a  note  of  regret  in  her  tone,  but 
could  not  detect  it.     She  spoke  gravely,  however. 
130 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"Yes,"  I  must  return  to  San  Francisco  very 
soon,"  he  replied  after  a  pause. 

"  I  wonder  will  you  remember  this  evening 
when  you  are  in  California  again,"  she  said. 
"  That  sky,  I  mean,  and  the  woods,  and  the 
beautiful  frosty  air." 

"  I  shall  never  forget  this  evening,"  he  replied 
earnestly.  "  It  will  be  one  of  my  cherished 
memories." 

She  took  alarm  again. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  will,"  she  said,  speaking 
quite  lightly.  "  It  will  be  an  effort  of  memory 
if  you  do.  You  don't  have  frost  in  San 
Francisco,  do  you?" 

"  I  have  never  seen  any,"  he  answered, 
speaking  steadily. 

"  Well,  if  you  won't  come  in,  I  must,"  and 
she  ran  up  the  steps.  "I'm  a  pretty  hostess. 
Everyone  is  in  before  me.  Fortunately  there 
is  always  Mrs.  Purvis."  She  stood  on  the  top 
step  and  looked  down  at  him.  "  Aren't  you 
coming?  Tea's  in  this  long  time,  you  know." 

"  Thanks,  he  answered  stiffly,  "  I'll  be  in 
directly." 

"  And  I  have  had  such  a  happy,  happy  day," 
she  said  softly.  "  I  shall  remember  it  better 
than  you  will  for  I  shall  have  the  trees  and  the 
pond  and  the  dear  old  Priory  before  me  still 
when  your  scene  has  changed." 

Gerald  fancied  he  caught  a  touch  of  wistful- 
ness  in  her  voice  and  stepped  impulsively  for- 
ward, but  she  had  vanished  into  the  house.  He 
stopped,  biting  his  lip. 

"She's  not  for  me,"  he  mused.  "What  a 
131 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

woman  she  is !  Never  five  minutes  in  the  same 
mood.  Sometimes  I  think  she  cares  for  me, 
but  at  a  hint  she  turns  to  ice.  Why  is  she  so 
monstrously  rich?  I  declare  I  hate  her  money 
as  much  as  she  does.  She'll  never  let  any  man 
woo  her  and,  for  one,  I  shall  never  muster  up 
courage  to  try." 

He  came  slowly  up  the  steps,  pausing  to 
glance  in  at  the  lighted  room  where  Kate  stood. 
She  had  thrown  her  furs  on  a  chair  and  was 
bending  over  the  tea  equipage,  laughing 
brightly,  and  apparently  offering  gay  apologies 
for  her  tardy  arrival. 

"  And  yet  I  love  her,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"  and  if  I  thought  she'd  believe  me,  faith  I 
think  I'd  dare  to  tell  her  so." 

And  he  followed  her  in  to  tea. 


137 


CHAPTER   XV. 
A  DINNER  PARTY  AT  LISCARRICK. 

OLD  LARRY  was  jubilant  as  he  superintended 
the  delivery  of  several  dozen  bottles  of  Irish 
whiskey  bearing  the  well  known  label  of  the 
Shamrock  Blend;  also  a  barrel  of  porter  and 
many  other  good  things.  As  he  signed  the 
railway  receipt  and  feasted  his  eyes  on  the 
goodly  show  they  made  ranged  in  the  stone 
passage,  he  felt  that  the  old  days  had  come  back 
again  to  Liscarrick  at  last. 

Mrs.  Kilkelly,  too,  was  very  busy  and 
important.  The  credit  of  the  house  depended 
on  her,  and  she  determined  to  maintain  it 
worthily.  For,  to  use  her  own  words,  "  '  Miss 
Molly  had  no  more  interest  nor  an  unhatched 
gosling  in  what  came  or  what  went,  since  she 
tuk  to  courtin.'  ' 

So  Mrs.  Kilkelly  summoned  her  staff  around 
her  and  marshalled  them  with  all  the  skill  of 
which  she  was  mistress,  for  this  was  the  day  of 
Gerald's  tenants'  ball. 

Judy,  a  pretty  girl,  whose  chronic  toothache 
seemed  to  be  in  abeyance  for  this  occasion  at 
least,  was  the  first  to  feel  the  rigour  of  the  old 
woman's  tongue. 

"Is  it  go  out?     Go  out  this  day!     Well,    I 
like  yer  impidence.     Sorra  fut  ye  stir  out  if  all 
the  world  was  waitin'   for  ye.       Everything  to 
do  an'  not  a  soul  but  meself  to  do  it." 
133 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

Poor  Judy  humbly  represented  that  this  was 
her  'afternoon  out,'  secured  to  her  by  solemn 
treaty  and  immemorial  usage,  but  the  old  lady 
was  adamant. 

"  Afternoon  out  or  afternoon  in,  it's  here  ye'll 
stick  an'  do  yer  work.  Troth,  when  I  was  yer 
age,  its  ashamed  I'd  be  to  go  gallivantin'  after 
any  bachelor.  Troth  an'  I  would." 

"I'm  afther  no  bachelor,"  retorted  Judy 
hotly,  stung  to  rebellion  by  this  taunt,  "  but  its 
a  poor  case  if  a  poor  girl  can't  go  to  the  chapel  to 
her  duties  without  havin'  the  likes  of  that  said  to 
her." 

"Yer  duties!"  echoed  Mrs  Kilkelly,  with 
withering  scorn.  "Yer  duties!  Its  mighty 
religious  ye're  gettin'  all  of  a  sudden! 
Chapel  indeed.  It's  a  chapel  with  chimneys  on 
it,  I'm  thinkin.'  Lave  me  way  now;  I've  no 
time  to  be  listen  in'  to  you.  Away  wid  ye,  Judy 
Duggan,  yerself  an'  Maggie,  an'  don't  lave  a 
speck  of  dust  in  dinin'  room  nor  hall;  an'  sure 
ye're  losing  nothing  stayin'  in.  He'll  be  here 
himself  to-night,  an'  ye  can  dance  rings  round 
the  pair  of  ye.  Away  wid  yez  now." 

And  having  carried  her  point,  as  she  usually 
did,  the  old  lady  heaved  a  sigh  and  looked 
round  for  fresh  worlds  to  conquer. 

Larry  was  the  next  to  attract  her  notice — 
Larry  scurrying  from  room  to  room  in.  quest  of 
the  plate  basket  which  he  had  laid  down  some- 
where to  superintend  the  unloading  of  the 
drinkables  and  could  find  nowhere. 

"  Arrah,  man,"  she  began,  "  what  ails  ye  at 
all,  running  round  like  a  chicken  with  its  head 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

cut    off.      Can't    ye    find    anything    to    do." 

"  Ah  will  ye  not  be  botherin'  me,"  snapped 
Larry,  as  irritable  as  most  people  are  when  they 
have  unaccountably  mislaid  an  article  they 
need.  "  Its  not  anything  to  do  I'm  lookin' 
for.  It's  the  plate  basket." 

"Glory  be!  Have  ye  lost  that?  Ye  un- 
fortunate kithogue,  an'  the  quality  comin'  to 
dinner." 

"  Don't  I  know  it?"  cried  Larry  in  despera- 
tion, "and  this  is  the  day  of  all  days  I'd  take 
to  lose  that  misforthinate  basket.  Ye'd  b« 
betther  helpin'  me  find  it,  ma'am,  than  hinderin' 
me  this  way." 

"Who's  hinderin'  ye,"  retorted  Mrs.  Kil- 
kelly,  angrily.  She  spied  the  object  of  Larry's 
search  under  the  scullery  table  and  drew  it  out 
"Here's  yer  basket,  sittin'  foreninst  yer  nose 
an'  not  a  word  out  of  it.  If  it  was  much 
nearer  ye  it'd  bite  ye,  ye  misforthinate  bothered 
ould  bat." 

The  butler's  irritation  passed  away  like 
breath  from  a  mirror.  He  seized  his  treasure 
eagerly. 

"  Ah  then,  thank  ye  kindly,  ma'am.  Its 
yerself  has  the  quick  eye.  Nothen'  passes  ye." 
But  Mrs.  Kilkelly  had  by  no  means  done 
with  him  yet,  and  proceeded  to  justify  her 
reputation  for  acumen  in  a  manner  less  welcome 
to  Larry.  Setting  her  arms  akimbo  she  stared 
at  him  for  a  full  minute,  and  then,  approach- 
ing her  face  to  his,  exclaimed : 

"  I  seen  it.     I  smell  it  off  ye.     What  a  day 
ye  must  take  to  go  an'  get  drunk." 
us 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"I'm  not  drunk,"  protested  the  badgered 
butler.  "Tare  an'  ages,  woman,  that  tongue 
of  yours  wouldn't  lave  a  bit  of  skin  on  a  man's 
character  the  size  of  a  bee's  knee." 

"Don't  I  tell  ye  J.  smell  it  off  ye,"  she 
persisted. 

"  I'm  not  denyin'  I  had  a  drop.  Sure  it'd 
be  a  poor  thing  if  I  wouldn't  drink  Master 
Gerald's  health  a  day  like  this,  an'  it  afther 
comin'  in,  six  dozen  bottles  of  it." 

"  If  ye're  drunk  this  night,  an'  you  waitin' 

at  table "  began  the  old  lady  impressively, 

but  Larry  cut  her  short. 

"  Ah!  don't  be  annoyin'  me,  listenin'  to  ye," 
he  shouted,  and  ambled  off  with  his  burden, 
leaving  Mrs.  Kilkelly  mistress  of  the  field. 

The  evening  opened  with  little  promise  of 
enjoyment.  Dinner  passed  off  quietly,  almost 
gloomily,  though  it  was  long  since  so  large  a 
party  had  met  at  Liscarrick.  It  had  been 
Gerald's  intention  to  ask  O'Hara  only,  but  Kate 
Fetherstone  had  written  to  Mrs.  Delaney 
begging  dinner  also  for  herself  and  Mrs.  Purvis. 

The  latter  lady,  an  Englishwoman,  had  lived 
at  the  Priory  for  several  years,  but  was  as  far 
as  ever  from  growing  accustomed  to  the  Irish 
character  and  Irish  ways.  She  could  not  under- 
stand them;  even  Bob  was  beyond  her,  Molly 
was  an  enigma,  and  as  for  O'Hara,  he  simply 
bewildered  her.  She  sat  in  stony  silence 
throughout  the  meal,  answering  in  monosyllables 
when  spoken  to,  and,  as  Jack  WThalen  afterwards 
remarked  "  never  opening  her  mouth  except  to 
put  a  bit  into  it." 

136 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

Mrs.  Delaney  was  nervous  and  uncomfort- 
able, and  occupied  herself  in  sending  deprecatory 
glances,  first  in  the  direction  of  her  brother-in- 
law,  then  in  that  of  her  affianced.  She  felt  as 
a  timid  lion  tamer  might  feel  if  placed  between 
two  beasts  whose  temper  she  thoroughly  mis- 
trusted. 

Molly  was  utterly  miserable.  She  experienced 
a  physical  repulsion  in  O'Hara's  presence  which 
she  took  no  pains  to  conceal.  Even  O'Hara 
himself,  though  quite  unconscious  of.  having 
overstepped  the  limits  of  playful  gallantry  in  his 
passages  with  Molly,  felt  ill  at  ease  in  surround- 
ings too  refined  to  be  wholly  congenial  to  him. 
One  of  his  eyes,  too,  was  in  that  parti-coloured 
transition  state  through  which  a  severe  bruise 
passes  before  it  disappears;  and  though  this 
was  ostensibly  attributed  to  the  foot  of  the 
bullock  and  commiserated  accordingly,  the 
squireen  was  well  aware  that  there  was  one  in 
company,  and  he  doubted  there  might  be  others, 
who  knew  better. 

After  the  ladies  had  withdrawn  things 
brightened.  O'Hara,  who  frankly  confessed 
that  he  was  two  or  three  glasses  under  the  mark, 
began  to  mellow  in  the  sunshine  of  the  swiftly 
passing  decanters.  Both  Gerald  and  Bob 
exerted  themselves  to  be  agreeable,  while  Jack 
gave  himself  up  to  unrestrained  enjoyment,  look- 
ing forward  to  an  evening's  gaiety  of  a  kind 
quite  new  to  his  experience. 

"  About  this  hour,"  remarked  O'Hara,  "  I 
most  generally  do  quit  cowld  wather.  I  find 
that  the  contents  of  a  kettle,  wid  a  sprig  of 
137 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

lemon,      brings     out     the     flavour     betther." 

"Hear,  hear!"  cheered  Gerald.  "Bob,  ring 
the  bell  and  have  in  the  materials." 

"  An'  while  we're  waitin'  for  them,  there's  a 
deal  of  vartue  in  a  small  drop  just  as  nature 
made  it,"  continued  the  Squireen,  pouring  out 
and  tossing  off  a  wineglassful  of  the  neat  spirit. 

"  We  may  as  well  have  some  more  whiskey 
while  we're  about  it,"  Bob  remarked.  "This 
decanter's  not  much  use  to  anybody." 

"  Ye're  right,  it  isn't,"  said  O'Hara.  "  I've 
no  use  at  all  for  a  decanter:  I'd  rather  have  my 
whack  out  of  the  bottle  they  make  it  in.  I 
don't  like  yer  decanters.  They're  mane  things. 
It's  like  measurin'  the  dose." 

"Some  decanters  hold  more  than  bottles," 
remarked  Jack. 

"  Not  when  I've  done  wid  them,"  rejoined 
Mat,  with  an  elaborate  wink,  which  seemed  to 
play  among  the  greens  and  yellows  of  his 
injured  eye  with  an  effect  so  comical  that  the 
others  lay  back  in  their  chairs  and  actually  yelled 
with  laughter.  Mat,  convinced  that  he  had  said 
something  very  good,  laughed  too. 

Jack  was  the  first  to  recover. 

"  Don't  overegg  the  pudding,  old  man,"  he 
whispered  to  Gerald,  eyeing  O'Hara. 

11  Never  fear,"  replied  his  friend  in  the  same 
tone.  "  He's  a  seasoned  vessel." 

"What  are  you  two  connubiatin'  about?" 
cried  the  Squireen. 

"Jack  here  is  proposing  to  join  the  ladies, 
but  surely  it's  not  come  to  that  yet,"  replied 
Gerald. 

138 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"  Don't  mind  him.  Sure  he's  in  love!  Not 
but  what  I'm  in  love  myself,"  O'Hara  con- 
tinued, recollecting  himself  and  regarding 
Whalen  fiercely;  "  as  much  in  love  as  ever  ye'll 
dar  to  be;  but  we're  in  no  hurry  for  the  ladies. 
The  materials  is  ordered." 

"We've  heaps  of  time,"  remarked  Bob. 
"Heaps!  Ye're  right,  me  boy.  But  I'm 
always  ready  to  drink  any  lady's  health,  present 
or  absent,"  Mat  continued,  filling  his  glass, 
"  Here's  to  the  brightest  eyes  in  Liscarrick  an' 
every  one  can  think  of  them  shining  in  the 
head  he  likes  best." 

He  drained  his  glass,  and  the  others,  rising 
to  honour  the  toast,  had  much  ado  to  restrain 
their  laughter,  so  ill  did  the  man's  sentimental 
expression  match  his  discoloured  optic.  But 
he  noticed  nothing. 

"  Lovely  eyes  never  yet  quenched  the  flow  of 
good  liquor,"  he  concluded,  setting  down  his 
empty  glass. 

"  This  lovely  frost  has  effectually  quelled  the 
flow  of  hunting,"  observed  Gerald.  "  Over  a 
week  of  it  now  and  no  sign  of  a  thaw.  One 
might  as  well  be  in  Canada." 

"I'm  finding  it  next  to  impossible  to  keep 
Liscarrick  in  proper  exercise,"  remarked  Bob. 
"  The  colt  is  getting  beyond  himself." 

"  I  always  towld  ye  ye  were  playin'  the  divil 
wid  that  little  harse,"  said  O'Hara  spitefully. 
"  Ye'll  have  him  as  thick  as  a  bullock  afore  the 
spring." 

"  Well,  I'd  like  to  know  how  you're  going  to 
exercise  him  this  weather,"  cried  Bob,   taking 
139 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

fire  at  once.  "  Maybe  you'd  have  him  out,  frost 
or  no  frost." 

"  Ye  ought  to  have  a  tan  gallop  laid  down  for 
him,"  retorted  the  other. 

"  Perhaps  you'd  like  to  pay  for  it,"  snapped 
Bob. 

"  Faix,  I've  ped  all  I  want  to  over  that  harse 
already." 

"  You'll  get  your  money,"  said  Bob  hotly. 

"  I'll  go  bail  I  will — an'  no  thanks  to  you 
neither,"  retorted  the  Squireen. 

"  Eo'u,  Bob,"  remonstrated  his  uncle,  laying 
his  hand  on  the  young  fellow's  arm  and  giving 
it  a  significant  squeeze;  "what  a  topic  to  start 
after  dinner.  I'm  ashamed  of  you." 

"  O'Hara  knows  his  money  is  perfectly  safe," 
answered  Bob,  calming  down  at  once  as  he 
remembered  the  role  he  was  expected  to  play. 
"There  isn't  a  faster  horse  in  Ireland." 

"  Begob,  then,  I  wish  you'd  sent  him  for  the 
whiskey,"  said  Mat  quizzically,  "for  ould 
Larry  is  mortal  slow." 

At  this  moment  the  butler  entered  with  the 
"  materials,"  and  harmony  was  restored. 


140 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

THE     TENANTS'     BALL. 

THERE  was  little  time  for  conversation  when 
the  gentlemen  entered  the  drawing  room,  for 
fiddles  were  already  scraping  and  the  drone  of 
the  pipes,  like  the  subdued  hum  of  many  bees, 
floated  in  from  the  hall. 

It  was  a  bright  scene.  The  big  chandelier 
was  lighted  and  shed  the  soft  radiance  of  scores 
of  wax  candles  on  the  groups  of  merrymakers — 
the  women  attired  in  all  their  finery,  gay 
colours  prevailing,  the  men  mostly  wearing  the 
picturesque  costume  of  the  Irish  peasantry. 

The  dark  oak  of  the  old  hall  was  handsomely 
relieved  by  the  decorations  of  the  season.  Ivy 
and  glistening  holly  leaves,  picked  out  with 
clusters  of  their  own  scarlet  berries,  nestled 
around  the  ancestral  portraits  or  twined  lovingly 
in  and  out  of  the  balustrades  of  the  great  stair- 
case. At  the  upper  end  sat  the  musicians — two 
fiddlers  and  a  piper — and  refreshment  tables  had 
been  spread  with  a  liberal  hand  in  the  porch  as 
well  as  in  the  dining  room.  Certainly  Gerald 
had  done  the  thing  well. 

A  ringing  cheer  greeted  the  entrance  of  the 
house  party,  and  the  festivities  were  soon  in  full 
swing. 

A  quadrille,  more  or  less  a  set  function,  in- 
augurated the  proceedings.  Gerald  opened  th« 
141 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK   GROWS 

ball  with  Mrs.  Kilkelly;  Mat  O'Hara  led  out 
Mrs.  Delaney.  Though  his  gestures  were  free 
and  his  tongue  glib,  the  jealous  eyes  that 
watched  him  could  detect  no  unsteadiness  in  his 
movements. 

Old  Larry's  bashful  invitation  to  Miss  Fether- 
stone  met  with  a  frank  and  ready  response,  but 
Bishop's  grave  request  for  the  honour  of  Mrs. 
Purvis's  hand  for  the  quadrille,  was  repulsed 
with  a  stony  stare  and  an  unqualified  negative. 
Molly  danced  with  Nolan,  and  Bob  selected  as 
his  partner  the  pretty  French  maid  from  the 
Priory. 

But  the  quadrille  was  only  an  appetiser  for 
the  more  highly  seasoned  dishes  to  follow. 
Reels  and  jigs  rapidly  succeeded  each  other ;  all 
was  romp  and  gaiety  and  good  fellowship.  A 
strong  dance,  in  which  each  couple  sought  to 
wear  down  the  others  had  ended,  after  nearly 
half  an  hour's  strenuous  competition,  in  a  com- 
plete triumph  for  Judy  and  her  rustic  swain. 
Now  the  participants,  exhausted  for  the  moment, 
sank  breathless  on  the  benches  or  leaned  against 
the  walls. 

Gerald,  who  with  most  of  the  house  party 
occupied  a  position  on  the  stairs,  observed  this 
and  set  himself  to  devise  a  new  pastime  for  his 
guests. 

"  I'll  get  Doherty,  the  piper,  to  sing  us  a 
song,"  he  said.  "That  will  give  them  time  to 
get  their  second  wind." 

As  he  passed  down  the  hall,  he  directed  the 
attention  of  sundry  stragglers  to  the  porch, 
whither  a  strong  tide  of  thirsty  souls  was  already 
142 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

setting.  Glancing  into  the  dining  room,  he 
noticed  O'Hara  busy  with  the  refreshments 
there.  He  had  missed  him  soon  after  the 
quadrille,  and  the  flushed  face  and  loud  tones 
of  the  Squireen,  as  he  talked  and  drank  amid  a 
small  group  of  farmers,  told  their  own  story. 
Gerald's  only  fear  was  that  he  would  remain  in 
the  dining  room  till  the  ladies  had  retired  and 
so  escape  Emmie's  notice  altogether. 

Revolving  various  schemes  for  drawing  Mat 
from  his  lair,  and  yet  loath  to  disturb  him  till 
he  was,  as  one  might  say,  fully  ripe,  he  reached 
the  Piper  and  preferred  his  request. 

"  A  song,  Masther  Gerald,"  answered  the  man 
of  the  chaunters,  who  sat,  one  arm  embracing 
his  pipes  while  the  other  toyed  with  a  frothing 
pot  of  porter.  "Deed  an'  ye  desarve  it,  sir. 
If  I  was  lark  an'  nightingale  in  one  I'd  sing  to 
ye  day  an'  night.  What  sort  of  a  song  would 
ye  be  choosing  now?" 

Gerald  glanced  up  the  hall  to  where  Kate 
stood  half  way  up  the  stairs — a  tall,  graceful 
figure  in  a  shimmering  robe  of  some  black 
material  from  which  her  snowy  neck  and  arms 
shone  out  the  whiter  by  contrast.  He  turned 
to  Doherty. 

"  Have  you  such  a  thing  as  a  song  about  a 
fool  who  loved  a  girl  so  much  that  he  was  afraid 
to  tell  her  so?" 

"  Deed,  an'  I  have,  sir." 
"Sing   it   then,"      And    Gerald   feasted   his 
eyes  from  a  distance,  while  the  Piper,   after  a 
few  preliminary   flourishes  on    his   instrument, 
passed  into  a  plaintive  old  Irish  air  and  sang, 
M3 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 
tunefully  enough,  in  a  quavering  high  tenor: — 

"There's  a  decent  little  shebeen  at  the  foot 

of  the  boreen, 

An'  its  lucky  that  my  holding  lies  so  near; 

It  isn't  altogether  on  account  of  the  potheen 

Nor  by  reason  of  the  porter  an'  the  beer. 

'  Tis  because  of  a  young  colleen  that  fills  up 

the  glasses  there — 

Boys  dear,  but  its  herself  is  pure  an'  sweet ; 
With  the  white  dawn  on  her  forehead  and  the 

midnight  in  her  hair, 
An'  as  light  as  a  young  colt  upon  her  feet." 

II. 

Her   spakin'   voice    is   sweeter  than    another 

woman  sings, 

An'  her  blush  is  like  the  bud  upon  the  briar, 
She  gives  a  taste  like  honey  to  the  liquor  that 

she  brings, 

An'  the  eyes  of  her  would  set  a  man  afire. 
She's  kinder  than  the  angels  that  come  some- 
times in  my  dreams, 

She's  fairer  than  the  sunset  on  the  snow. 
I've  never  dared  to  ask  her — never  asked  her, 

for  it  seems 
I  couldn't  live  at  all  if  she  said  '  No.'  " 

"  Thank  you,  Doherty,"  Gerald  said  when 
the  applause  that  followed  the  song  had  died  out. 
"  You'll  never  want  a  set  of  pipes  while  you've 
that  in  your  throat.  Why  your  pewter's  empty. 
Somebody  fetch  Doherty  another  pot  of  porter." 

As  he  turned  away  he  added.  "  Give  them 
M4 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

Sir  Roger;  the  ladies  have  had  about  enough 
of  it,  I  fancy.  You  can  have  the  Cushion 
Dance  after  they  go." 

Kate  was  full  of  the  song  when  Gerald 
rejoined  her. 

"What  a  charming  old  air!  And  the  words 
have  a  pretty  fancy.  They're  not  a  bit  natural, 
though.  I  can't  imagine  a  man  loving  a  girl 
like  that  and  not  daring  to  tell  her  so.  Can 
you  ?" 

"  I  can,  quite,"  Gerald  answered  shortly. 
Why  did  she  lead  him  on  in  this  way  and  then 
turn  cold  directly  her  invitation  was  accepted?" 

"  Oh,  well,  men  know  best,  I  suppose,"  she 
said  lightly.  "  I'm  sure,  if  I  wanted  anything 
as  much  as  all  that  I  shouldn't  be  afraid  to 
ask  for  it." 

Gerald  turned  suddenly,  hot  words  on  his 
lips,  but  the  situation  was  all  against  him. 
Molly  and  Jack,  close  beside  him,  might  have 
been  a  hundred  miles  away  for  all  the  attention 
they  paid  him,  or  any  one  but  themselves,  and 
Mrs.  Delaney  was  wistfully  scanning  the  mov- 
ing throng  below  in  search  of  her  Mat;  but 
Mrs.  Purvis,  a  step  or  two  higher  up,  kept  her 
eyes  on  his  face. 

"  Besides,"  Kate  went  on  as  he  remained 
silent,  "  she  was  a  barmaid  or  something  of  the 
kind,  I  gathered — the  girl  in  the  song,  I  mean. 
In  the  whiskey  trade  like  myself,"  she  added 
bitterly.  "  I  don't  see  that  the  lover  need  have 
been  so  punctilious." 

Oh,  to  be  alone  with  her  for  five  minutes 
while  this  mood  was  on  her !  He  glanced  at 
MS 

K 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

Mrs.  Purvis,  who  was  watching  them  unwink- 
ing, and  replied, 

"I  don't  think  he  was  over  punctilious. 
Merely  in  love,  and  sensitively  alive  to  his  own 
demerits,  as  all  similarly  afflicted  are." 

"There's  Sir  Roger,"  cried  Molly  suddenly. 
"They'll  have  the  Cushion  Dance  after  this. 
Uncle  Gerald,  mayn't  we  wait  and  see  it?" 

"  Better  not,  dear.  It  isn't  usual,"  he 
answered. 

"Why  not?"  asked  Kate,  her  curiosity  all 
aflame  as  she  sniffed  a  faint  odour  of  forbidden 
fruit. 

"  It's  not  considered  etiquette,  dear,  for  ladies 
to  wait  for,"  explained  Mrs.  Delaney.  "  You 
see  its  a  kind  of  carnival  when  ordinary  rules 
are  relaxed." 

"  It's  simply  a  country  frolic,"  explained 
Gerald.  "The  band  plays  'The  White 
Cockade,'  or  some  such  rubbish,  and  a  man 
goes  round  with  a  cushion  and  lays  it  at  the  feet 
of  his  chosen  one,  and  kneels  on  it.  She  is 
supposed  to  drop  on  her  knees,  too,  and  he 
kisses  her.  Then  she  takes  the  cushion  and 
makes  her  own  selection  among  the  men,  and 
so  on  ad  infinitum.  It's  a  sort  of  Irish  version 
of  kiss-in-the-ring." 

"Oh,  but  it  sounds  charming,"  cried 
Kate.  "  I  certainly  shan't  go  till  I  have  seen 
it." 

"Quite  right,  Kate,"  approved  Molly. 
"  They  always  hunt  the  ladies  away  before  it 
begins.  I've  never  seen  it,  but  its  the  biggest 
fun  of  it  all,  I  know." 

146 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"  Why  do  they  hunt  the  ladies  away?"  asked 
Kate,  turning  to  Gerald. 

"  Well,  you  see,"  he  replied  awkwardly,  "if 
you're  here  you're  supposed  to  be  taking  part 
in  the  dance,  just  as  you  did  in  the  quadrilles, 
you  know.  And  if  someone  were  to  lay  the 

cushion  at  your  feet ' 

"  I  should  get  kissed,  I  suppose.  What 
fun!"  interrupted  she. 

"  No,"  said  he  gravely,  "  that  happens  when 
you  lay  the  cushion  at  someone  else's  feet.  In 
the  former  case  you  have  to  kiss." 

"  Gerald  dear,  how  can  you  ?"  cried  his  sister- 
in-law  reprovingly.  Mrs.  Purvis's  face  was  set 
in  a  mask  of  horror.  Kate  was  laughing. 

"What  about  the  men?"  she  asked. 
"  Aren't  they  afraid  of  being  kissed?" 

"  Men  don't  mind  that  sort  of  thing  so  much," 
explained  Mrs.  Delaney. 

"  Ah,  men  have  many  privileges,"  Kate  re- 
marked, counterfeiting  a  sigh,  "  it  must  be  nice 
to  be  a  man." 

At  this  provocation  Mrs.  Purvis  found  her 
voice. 

"Kate,  dear!    !    !    !  " 

"  Now,  Mrs.  Purvis,"  replied,  in  impish 
mood,  the  lady  so  adjured,  "  you  know  you'd 
like  it  yourself." 

A  faint  scream  was  the  only  possible  reply  tb 
this  monstrous  insinuation,  and  Mrs.  Purvis 
made  it. 

"  So  you  think,  Mrs.  Delaney,  men  don't 
mind  being  kissed?"  continued  the  irrepresssible 
Kate. 

M7 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"  I  suppose  not,  dear,"  replied  the  widow. 

"  And  you,  Mr.  Delaney.  Is  it  chivalrous  of 
you  to  shelter  behind  us  poor  women.  Down 
with  you  and  defend  the  stair.  But  wait.  Tell 
me — Do  you  hope  to  preserve  your  virgin 
cheek?" 

"I'm  afraid  not.  You  know  I  am  supposed 
to  be  the  host  to-night.  I  shall  be  expected  to 
open  the  proceedings,"  he  replied. 

"  And  is  it  one  of  the  host's  duties  to  kiss  the 
girls?  I  can  imagine  you  quite  proficient.  Well 
I  suppose  we  had  better  go,  we  poor  women.  The 
spectacle  might  be  too  much  for  weak  nerves." 

"  If  you  really  wish  to  wait,  Miss  Feather- 
stone,"  said  Gerald,  who,  in  truth,  did  not  know 
how  to  take  her,  "  keep  on  the  stairs  here  and 
everyone  will  understand  you  are  not  dancing. 
You  will  see  it  all,  and  its  all  very  innocent." 

And  he  ran  down  the  hall. 

"  Oh,  do  stay,  Kate,  and  then  I  can  too," 
pleaded  Molly. 

"You  will,  of  course,  please  yourself,  dear," 
said  Mrs.  Purvis,  stiffly.  "  Personally,  I  think  I 
should  prefer  to  withdraw." 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Purvis,  with  ordinary  precaution, 
and  if  you  will  promise  to  discard  that  too  fas- 
cinating smile,  I  will  undertake  to  ensure  your 
safety.  Just  two  steps  higher,  please,  and  be- 
hind me." 

"  There's  '  The  White  Cockade,'  "  cried  Jack, 
"and  there's  Gerald  with  his  cushion.  Now 
look  out.  The  fun's  going  to  commence." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
THE  CUSHION  DANCE. 

THE  centre  of  the  hall  was  clear,  and  the  dancers 
were  ranged  along  the  sides,  in  some  places 
thinly,  at  others  in  denser  groups,  where  some 
maiden,  in  real  or  affected  coyness,  had  drawn 
into  the  background,  using  her  fellows  as  a 
screen.  There  was  much  pushing  forward  and 
pulling  back,  and  a  ripple  of  giggles  rising  and 
falling,  and  at  times  almost  drowning  the  music. 
Down  the  whole  length  of  the  great  hall  stalked 
Gerald,  serene  and  unsmiling ,  cushion  in  hand, 
a  modern  Paris  weighing  well  his  judgment  ere 
he  bestowed  the  apple. 

Tense  interest  enthralled  the  little  group  on  the 
stairs  as  it  watched.  Molly  struck  a  discordant 
note  when  she  exclaimed : 

"  I  declare  if  he  hasn't  got  one  of  the  best 
drawing  room  cushions.  Isn't  he  extravagant." 

"  Never  mind  the  cushion,"  Kate  said  im- 
patiently. "  I'm  dying  to  see  what  he'll  do  with 
it.  There  are  any  amount  of  pretty  girls  to 
choose  from.  Oh,"  she  cried.  "  His  old  nurse ! 
I  call  that  a  swindle." 

For  Gerald  had  deposited  the  cushion  at  Mrs. 
Kilkelly's  feet  and  dropped  on  his  knees. 

But  though  she  affected  to  be  disappointed  at 
Gerald's  choice,  Kate's  interest  did  not  wane. 
She  clapped  her  hands  and  laughed  aloud  when 
the  old  nurse  selected  the  Priory  butler  for  her 
partner. 

•'-'  She's  chosen  Bishop,"  she  cried.     "  Now  I 
140 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

wonder  how  he'll  manage.  If  he  goes  down  on 
his  knees  he'll  never  be  able  to  get  up.  Isn't  he 
a  pompous  old  dear.  Now  its  his  turn.  I'm 
dying  to  see  what  he'll  do.  Oh,  look  1  Trust 
Bishop.  He  has  taste." 

For  Bishop  had  dropped  his  cushion  before 
Peggy  Rafferty,  probably  the  prettiest  girl  in  the 
room,  and  subsided,  with  some  difficulty,  at  her 
feet. 

"Hospitality  to  the  foreigner,"  remarked 
Jack,  critically  inspecting  the  embrace  which 
rewarded  the  butler.  "  I've  a  good  mind  to  go 
down  and  try  my  luck." 

"  Do,"  said  Molly  mischievously,  "  let  us  both 
go.  I'll  show  you  the  way." 

Jack  stayed  where  he  was. 

The  fun  below  waxed  fast  and  furious.  The 
presence  of  the  house  party,  which  at  first  had 
operated  as  a  check  on  the  more  boisterous 
elements,  was  quite  forgotten,  and  though  the 
rules  of  the  game  were  strictly  observed,  knots  of 
boys  and  girls,  laughing  and  cheering,  sur- 
rounded each  couple  as  they  embraced,  insisting 
that  the  forfeit  should  be  honestly  paid  and  per- 
mitting no  shirking.  The  party  on  the  stairs, 
which  had  been  rejoined  by  Gerald,  was  weary 
with  laughter,  provoked  every  moment  by  some 
new  incident  below,  and  Kate  was  beginning  to 
lend  a  more  favourable  ear  to  the  repeated  hints 
of  Mrs.  Purvis  that  it  was  "  surely  time  to  order 
the  carriage,  dear,"  when  a  sudden  shout  from 
the  lower  part  of  the  hall  arrested  everyone's 
attention. 

a*  Hurroo  for  the  luck  of  the  O'Hara's !  A 
150 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

cushion  dance,  begorrah !  I'm  in  it  up  to  me 
neck." 

The  Squireen  was  standing  in  the  doorway  of 
the  dining  room,  swaying  on  his  feet,  flushed, 
loutish,  all  the  animal  beauty  of  his  face 
quenched  in  liquor — drunk  and  unashamed ! 

Mrs.  Delaney  drew  back  from  the  balustrade. 
Then  she  pressed  forward  again  as  if  unable  to 
take  her  eyes  off  him.  Larry  chanced  to  be 
passing  below.  She  leaned  down  and  spoke  to 
him. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  Mr.  O'Hara,  Larry? 
Is  he  ill?" 

"  Sorra  taste,  ma'am.  Only  drunk,"  replied 
the  matter  of  fact  servant. 

Mrs.  Delaney  turned  very  pale,  but  she  still 
kept  her  eyes  on  the  scene  below  as  if  it  possessed 
some  horrible  fascination  for  her.  The  others 
watched  her  in  silence. 

O'Hara  lurched  forward.  The  dance  had 
stopped  abruptly  as  everyone  turned,  startled  by 
his  shout.  The  cushion  lay  where  the  last  holder 
had  dropped  it,  and  he  stumbled  over  it,  almost 
pitching  on  his  head.  Recovering  himself,  he 
grabbed  it  up  and  stood  looking  round  him  with 
swimming,  bloodshot  eyes. 

"Three  cheers  for  ould  Ireland!"  he 
screamed.  "  Play  it  up,  Piper." 

He  staggered  forward  a  few  steps  still  holding 
the  cushion.  "  Where  the  blazes  are  all  the 
pretty  girls?  Oh,  here's  one." 

He  flopped  down  on  his  knees  before  Judy 
Duggan,  and  seizing  her  by  the  waist  tried  to 
pull  her  down  to  him.  She  screamed  and  strug- 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

gled,  and  O'Hara,  losing  his  balance  rolled  over 
on  his  side  dragging  the  girl  to  the  ground. 

Ominous  murmurs  arose  from  the  hall.  "  For 
shame  !"  "  That's  no  fair  dancing,"  and  the  like. 

"This  will  never  do,"  cried  Gerald,  and 
dashed  down  the  stairs. 

"  I'll  have  me  kiss,"  insisted  the  Squireen 
thickly.  "  It's  my  cushion." 

There  was  an  unseemly  struggle  on  the  floor, 
but  before  Gerald,  closely  followed  by  Bob, 
could  reach  the  spot,  O'Hara  had  been  dragged 
clear  by  a  stalwart  young  labourer,  Judy's  in- 
tended, and  the  girl,  flushed  and  dishevelled, 
helped  to  her  feet. 

Mrs.  Delaney,  white  as  paper,  sank  on  the 
steps,  where  she  sat,  pressing  her  hand  to  her 
side. 

"Mamma,  dear,  what's  the  matter?"  cried 
her  daughter.  "Are  you  ill?" 

"  Sick  at  heart,  Molly.  Take  me  away.  Oh, 
take  me  away." 

"  Loathsome  beast,"  muttered  Molly,  and  she 
assisted  her  mother  upstairs. 

The  others  exchanged  glances  of  consternation. 

"  I  really  think  it  is  high  time  we  went  home," 
said  Mrs.  Purvis  at  last. 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,"  assented  Kate. 
"Jack,  you  might  order  the  carriage." 

All  the  brightness  had  gone  out  of  the  evening 
for  her.  She  addressed  her  maid,  who,  terrified 
by  the  scene  below,  had  crept  up  a  few  steps. 

"  We   are    going,    Celeste,    get   our    wraps, 
please,"  and  the  three  women  went  up  together. 
The  stairway  was  deserted. 
152 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

Meanwhile,  O'Hara  lay  on  his  back,  speech- 
less and  motionless,  but  grinning  feebly,  the 
centre  of  a  group  of  curious  rustics. 

"  Get  him  away,  Bob,  to  bed  or  anywhere  you 
like  out  of  sight,"  said  Gerald  hurriedly. 

Judging  by  his  own  feelings  he  did  not  believe 
that  Emmie,  or  any  other  woman,  could  have 
looked  without  repulsion  at  the  Squireen  as  he 
lay.  He  felt  his  plot  had  succeeded,  but  he 
revolted  at  its  consummation. 

"Now  friends,"  he  began  as  he  reached  the 
end  of  the  hall,  "  don't  you  think  we've  all  had 
enough  of  this?  " 

"  Ah,  yer  honour,"  said  Larry,  "  they're  only 
just  beginning  to  like  it.  Sure  its  only  the 
shank  of  the  evening." 

Gerald  looked  round  helplessly.  Bob  was 
struggling  hard  to  get  O'Hara  on  his  feet. 
Another  man  had  seized  the  cushion  and  was 
carrying  it  round.  A  word  to  the  piper  stopped 
that.  The  music  ceased,  and  the  company 
stood  at  gaze,  waiting  for  whatever  might  happen 
next,  but  showing  no  inclination  to  disperse. 
Gerald  sought  Mrs.  Kilkelly  and  whispered  his 
difficulty  in  her  ear. 

"  Nurse,  couldn't  you  give  them  a  hint  to 
clear  out.  Nothing  to  hurt  their  feelings  you 
know.  Just  a  gentle  hint." 

Mrs.  Kilkelly  had  her  own  notion  of  a  gentle 
hint,  and  she  proceeded  to  administer  one.  The 
event  showed  that  she  knew  her  audience. 

"  Now,  boys  and  girls,"  she  said,  raising  her 
voice.  "  Ye're  here  long  enough,  so  just  give 
three  cheers  for  the  ladies  and  gentlemen,  not 

I  S3 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

forgettin'  Master  Gerald  who  give  yez  this  trate, 
an'  then  away  with  yez.  There's  sherry  wine  in 
the  housekeeper's  room  for  the  ladies,  an'  lashins 
and  lavins  of  beer  and  porter  for  the  men  in  the 
kitchen.  So,  three  cheers  and  away  with  yez 
now." 

"Thank  you,  nurse,"  said  Gerald,  after  he 
had  acknowledged  the  noisy  ovation,  "  that's 
just  what  I  wanted.  A  gentle  hint,  and  you 
gave  it  them." 

By  this  time  Bob,  with  some  assistance,  had 
succeeded  in  getting  O'Hara  into  the  library, 
where,  having  settled  the  now  comatose  gentle- 
man on  the  sofa,  with  a  rug  and  a  pillow,  he  left 
him  to  sleep  off  his  potations. 

Meanwhile  Molly  had  accompanied  her 
mother  to  her  room  and  remained  with  her  while 
she  undressed.  The  girl  was  very  tender- 
hearted, and  Mrs.  Delaney's  penitent  mood 
touched  her  deeply,  but  she  was  careful  not  to 
show  overmuch  sympathy. 

"I'll  never  see  him  again,"  wailed  the  poor 
lady;  "  I  couldn't  let  him  come  near  me.  Such 
a  disgrace — such  a  public  disgrace.  Lying 
drunk  in  my  own  hall  and  trying  to  kiss  the 
scullery  maid." 

"  It's  my  belief  he'd  try  to  kiss  the  devil  if  you 
put  him  in  petticoats,"  observed  Molly. 

"  Don't  be  irreverent,  dear,"  corrected  her 
mother.  "You  are  altogether  too  free  in  your 
speech.  I  wonder  was  he  mad  ?  " 

"  Mad  drunk,"  replied  the  girl  curtly. 

"  I'm  afraid  so.  I've  seen  men  drunk  before. 
154 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

I'll  never  marry  a  drunkard — no,  not  if  I  end  my 
days  single." 

"I'm  thankful  you've  decided  not  to  marry 
this  one  anyhow,"  answered  Molly. 

"  Never  marry  a  drunkard,  whatever  you  do. 
Mr.  Whalen  doesn't  drink,  I  hope?  " 

"  Of  course  he  doesn't,  Jack's  a  gentleman," 
said  her  daughter  indignantly. 

"Ah,  but  my  dear;  gentlemen  do  drink — 
some  of  them.  But  I'll  break  this  off.  Write 
to  Mr.  O'Hara  in  the  morning — no,  I'll  write 
myself.  And  now,  dear,  I  think  I'll  try  to  get  a 
little  sleep.  I  feel  very  shaken.  Kiss  me  good 
night,  Molly,  and  give  my  love  to  Mrs.  Purvis 
and  Kate  and  beg  them  to  excuse  me.  Tell  them 
I  feel  quite  upset,  and  have  gone  to  lie  down. 
And  tell  Larry  I  am  never  at  home  to  Mr. 
O'Hara  at  any  time  he  calls.  Good  night, 
dear." 

Molly  returned  to  the  hall  with  the  comfort- 
able conviction  that  her  mother's  heart  was  un- 
affected, however  mortifying  to  her  pride  and 
vanity  the  Squireen's  conduct  might  have  been. 

She  did  not  see  Kate  Fetherstone,  who  had 
already  gone,  but  she  found  her  uncle  and  Jack 
Whalen  smoking,  amid  the  debris  of  the  decora- 
tions, in  the  deserted  hall. 

"Well?"  said  Gerald. 

"  Well,"  she  replied.  "  Mamma  has  gone  to 
bed  in  a  very  edifying  frame  of  mind,  and  has 
forbidden  Mat  O'Hara  the  house." 

"Glory  be!  as  Mrs.  Kilkelly  would  say," 
ejaculated  Gerald  fervently. 

"Amen!"  responded  Molly;  and  then, 
155 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

seeing  the  derelict  cushion  lying  on  the  floor  she 
picked  it  up,  like  the  careful  housewife  she  was, 
and  carried  it  into  the  drawing  room. 

"  Do  you  know  that  you  took  about  the  only 
decent  cushion  in  the  house  for  your  horrid 
game?  "  she  said. 

"  That  was  why  I  selected  it,  my  dear.  If  you 
want  to  do  anything,  do  it  as  well  as  you  can." 

And  Jack  and  Gerald  resumed  their  cigars, 
and  Molly  went  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

MR.  O'HARA  THREATENS  AN  ACTION  FOR 
BREACH. 

IT  was  nearly  a  week  after  Gerald's  "  fandango," 
the  last  day  of  the  old  year,  in  fact,  that  O'Hara, 
burning  for  vengeance,  entered  Mr.  McMaster's 
office.  The  Squireen  had  called  several  times  at 
Liscarrick  in  the  interval  only  to  be  repulsed  on 
each  occasion  with  a  curt  "  not  at  home  "  from 
the  delighted  Larry.  He  had  even  forced  his 
way  into  the  library,  and  there  waited,  fuming, 
for  an  hour  or  more.  But  Mrs.  Delaney  had 
locked  herself  in  her  room  upstairs,  and  he  saw 
no  one. 

So,  despairing  of  bringing  the  widow  to  a 
parley  by  fair  means,  he  determined  to  consult 
the  attorney  with  a  view  to  ascertaining  if  the  law 
could  be  made  to  serve  his  purpose. 

The  joint  note  of  Bob  and  Gerald  fell  due  in 
a  few  days,  and  McMaster  naturally  thought  that 
it  was  on  this  business  his  client  had  called. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  O'Hara,"  was  the 
attorney's  formal  greeting.  "  You  have  called  in 
reference  to  this  Liscarrick  business,  I  presume." 

"  Ye  presume  right,"  replied  Mat,  "  I've  been 
badly  trated,  but  them  that  thinks  Mat  O'Hara 
is  to  be  whistled  up,  and  then  sent  to  heel  like  a 
damned  dog,  will  find  their  mistake.  I'll  larn 
them." 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,  the  note  has  several  days 
157 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

to  run,  and  there  can  be  no  manner  of  doubt 
Mr.  Gerald  Delaney  will  meet  it  when  due.  You 
have  nothing  to  complain  of." 

"  Nothing  to  complain  of,  ain't  I,"  exploded 
O'Hara,  '  I've  nothing  in  life  agen  Gerald 
Delaney — he  trated  me  like  a  gentleman  the 
other  night — free  spoken  an'  liberal,  an'  the 
whiskey  was  ten  years  old  if  it  was  a  day,  an' 
he  seen  me  safe  an'  comfortable  on  the  sofa  afther 
it,  with  a  rug  up  to  me  chin." 

McMaster  smiled  as  he  visualised  the  picture 
thus  presented.  The  Squireen  was  the  only  one 
of  his  clients  who  occasionally  tickled  his  faint 
sense  of  humour. 

"  What  the  divil  are  ye  grinnin'  at?"  snapped 
Mat.  '  It's  no  laughing  matter,  I  tell  ye  now. 
The  day  after  the  spree  comes  a  note  for  me  from 
the  widow  Delaney.  I'll  read  it  ye  in  a  minute. 
Well,  back  an'  forth,  accordin'  as  I  had  the  time, 
I've  been  four  times  to  the  big  house  to  see  her, 
an*  that  divil's  imp,  Larry,  stands  howldin'  the 
dure  an'  sayin'  "  not  at  home,'  as  if  it  plazed 
him  to  say  it.  An'  I  knowin'  all  the  time,  as 
well  as  if  I  seen  her,  that  she  was  stuck  in  some 
room  within,  maybe  makin'  faces  at  me  from  in 
under  the  blind.  I  tell  ye,  Mac,  I'm  not  goin'  to 
stand  it." 

"  Have  you  and  the  lady  quarrelled?"  asked 
the  attorney,  surprised. 

"  No!  If  I  had  would  I  be  botherin'  up  to 
see  her  four  days  in  the  week.  Its  herself  has 
turned  rusty,  the  Lord  knows  why." 

"  Pooh,  pooh  !    The  quarrels  of  lovers  are  the 
renewal  of  love,"  quoted  McMaster. 
158 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

O'Hara  fairly  danced  with  rage. 

"  D'ye  think  she's  the  first  woman  I've 
courted?  D'ye  think  I  don't  know  the  ins  and 
outs  of  them  by  this  time?  Will  ye  get  it 
through  yer  thick  head  that  she's  strivin'  to  give 
me  the  chuck?  Here,  read  this,"  and  he 
snatched  a  letter  from  his  pocket  and  threw  it 
across  the  desk  to  the  attorney. 

The  latter  adjusted  his  glasses  and  began  to 
read — 

"  Liscarrick,  December  27.  Sir, — "  he  com- 
menced, but  O'Hara  interrupted  him  : 

"  That's  how  it  begins.  '  Sir  !'  An'  a  few  days 
ago  I  was  her  own  darlin'  Mat.  I  tell  ye,  Mac, 
that  unfeeling  '  sir  '  tore  up  me  heart's  emotions 
like  a  harrow  goin'  over  fresh  plough.  But 
read  it,  read  it." 

The  attorney  resumed. 

11  After  the  disgraceful  exhibition  you  made  of 
yourself  last  night,  to  which  I  was  a  witness — " 

He  could  get  no  further,  for  the  Squireen  ex- 
ploded again. 

"Disgraceful  exhibition!  There  it  is.  I 
dunno  what  she's  talkin'  about.  I  may  have 
been  a  bit  fresh — I'm  not  denyin'  it.  It  was 
Christmas  times,  an'  we  were  all  there  to  be  jolly 
together.  I  declare  to  you,  Mac,  I  never  had 
such  an  insult  put  upon  me  in  my  life.  Dis- 
graceful exhibition  !  Is  it  one  of  Doolan's  penny 
peep  shows  she  takes  me  for?" 

"  The  lady  evidently  thinks  you  were  intoxi- 
cated," observed  the  lawyer. 

"Intoxicated!"  roared  O'Hara,  springing  to 
his  feet.  "I'd  knock  th«  teeth  down  the  throat 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

of  any  man  that  would  say  the  like.  Begorra, 
if  she  thinks  I  was  intoxicated  that  night,  I'd 
like  her  to  see  me  raal  drunk.  Sure,  I  hadn't 
even  a  headache  in  the  mornin'  an'  ate  well  on 
to  a  pound  of  steak  for  me  breakfast." 

"  Well,  I  only  judge  from  her  letter.  If  she 
doesn't  mean  that,  I  can't  see  what  her  meaning 
is." 

"  It  was  Judy  Duggan  done  it;  a  well  set-up 
colleen  enough.  I  was  wrastling  her  for  a  kiss 
in  the  cushion  dance  an*  the  two  of  us  fell  on 
the  flure — leastways,  that's  what  Tim  Reilly  tells 
me,  for  I  disremember  it  myself." 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Delaney  is  jealous  then?"  queried 
the  lawyer,  raising  his  eyebrows. 

"  It  can't  be  anything  else.  Say  I  was  drunk 
itself,  what  of  it  ?  It's  a  good  man's  case.  Sure 
any  gentleman's  liable  to  take  a  glass  too  much — 
to  say  nothen  of  the  festive  occasion.  But  the 
widow's  in  bitter airnest.  Read  on  ;  read  it  all." 

"  I  am  told  you  never  ceased  filling  your  glass 
the  entire  evening,"  resumed  the  lawyer,  but 
O'Hara  broke  in  again — 

"  I  ax  ye  to  notice  that.  What  kind  of  hos- 
pitality do  ye  call  that — counting  a  gentleman's 
glasses  in  her  own  house?  Begorra,  afther  that 
I  wouldn't  marry  her — not  if  she  went  down  on 
her  bended  knees  to  me."  He  paused  a  moment, 
and  then  added  loftily :  "  I  was  under  the  impris- 
sion  that  I  was  courtin'  a  lady." 

Meanwhile  McMaster,  despairing  of  conclud- 
ing if  he  continued  to  read  aloud,  had  glanced 
over  the  letter,  and  looking  up  as  he  reached  the 
end,  said — 

160 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"  Well,  she  makes  her  meaning  plain  enough, 
at  any  rate.  She  formally  declares  her  engage- 
ment to  you  at  an  end,  and  desires  that 
there  may  be  no  further  communication  be- 
tween you." 

"  That's  just  it,"  replied  Mat.  "  She  acknow- 
ledges the  engagement  and  breaks  it  off  all  in 
the  one  letter.  That's  why  I  brought  it  to  you. 
Sure,  what  better  could  we  want?" 

"What  better?"  repeated  the  attorney, 
puzzled.  "  I  fail  to  understand." 

"  Sure  its  a  proof  no  jury  could  get  over.  Get 
ready  yer  action  for  breach  of  promise.  Lay  the 
damages  high,  for  they  niver  give  ye  the  half  of 
what  ye  ask,  an'  put  that  letter  in  your  safe.  Its 
important." 

The  lawyer  stared  at  him  in  amazement. 

"  Mr.  O'Hara,  you  cannot  be  in  earnest!" 

"  An'  why  not,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

"  To  sue  a  lady  for  breach  of  promise.  It  is 
an  unheard  of  thing." 

"  Begorra,  it  was  heard  of  many  a  time,"  said 
the  Squireen,  truculently.  "  I  heard  of  it  to  a 
purty  tune  when  that  wench  of  Thady  Finne- 
gan's  got  eighty  pounds  out  o'  me,  an'  its  yersilf 
minds  that  case  well,  'Torney  McMaster,  for  by 
the  same  token  ye  nearly  ruined  me  with  the  costs 
ye  charged  me.  But  its  my  turn  now ;  get  it  back 
for  me." 

"That  was  a  different  thing  altogether.  But 
for  a  gentleman  to  sue  a  lady  for  breach " 

"  Oh,  begob,  what's  sauce  for  the  goose  is 
sauce  for  the  gander,"  interrupted  Mat. 

"  Take  my  advice;  go  home  and  think  it  over 

161 
L 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

quietly,"  urged  the  attorney.  "  Here's  your 
letter." 

"  Put  it  in  yer  safe,  I  tell  ye.   Its  important." 

"  Oh,  well,  if  you  wish,"  replied  the  other, 
placing  the  document  aside;  "but  be  careful 
what  you  do,  or  you'll  make  yourself  the  laugh- 
ing stock  of  Ireland.  You'll  be  having  Gerald 
Delaney's  cheque  for  nearly  seventeen  hundred 
one  of  these  days,  so  you  can  consider  that  as 
damages  and  salve  your  wounded  heart  with  it." 

O'Hara  left  the  office  very  ill-satisfied,  and 
inveighing  bitterly  against  the  sex  discrimina- 
tion of  British  law  as  applied  to  cases  of  blighted 
affection. 

"  What's  sauce  for  the  goose  is  sauce  for  the 
gander,  I  was  always  towld,"  he  muttered. 

As  he  rode  down  the  village  street  he  noticed 
that  the  wind  had  veered  to  the  south. 

-The  frost's  breaking  up  anyway,"  he 
thought,  and  made  his  way  homeward  somewhat 
comforted. 

Just  before  he  reached  the  turning  that  led  to 
Ballintubber  he  encountered  Mr.  Gerald  Delaney 
and  Miss  Kate  Fetherstone  riding  very  close  to- 
gether, while  Nolan,  the  groom,  maintained  a 
respectful  distance  in  the  rear. 

"Them  two's  coortin,"  he  mused,  as  he 
saluted  them.  "  How  money  marries  money  in 
this  world !  The  like  of  it  was  never  seen." 

And,  brooding  on  the  many  injustices  of  life, 
O'Hara  rode  home  to  Ballintubber. 


i6a 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A  LOST  OPPORTUNITY. 

GERALD,  too,  had  been  tempted  by  the  southerly 
wind  and  the  softening  roads  to  give  a  little 
exercise  to  some  of  the  horses  who  had  been 
eating  their  heads  off  in  the  stables  during  the 
rigour  of  the  long  frost.  Riding  out  alone,  he 
had  been  lucky  enough  to  meet  Miss  Fether- 
stone,  not  far  from  Liscarrick  gate,  and  intent  on 
a  similar  purpose. 

He  gladly  accepted  her  invitation  to  turn  his 
horse's  head,  and  the  two  started  together  for  a 
long  country  ramble,  with  Nolan  as  the  sole 
representative  of  Mrs.  Grundy. 

It  was  their  first  meeting  since  the  evening  of 
the  tenants'  ball,  and  Kate  was  eager  to  learn  if 
Mrs.  Delaney  had  remained  firm  in  her  resolu- 
tion and  had  definitely  banished  O'Hara.  On 
this  point  Gerald's  report  was  entirely  favourable. 
His  sister-in-law  fully  realised  that  she  had  nar- 
rowly escaped  wrecking  her  life,  and  was  deter- 
mined to  keep  out  of  danger  for  the  future. 
O'Hara  had  been  rigorously  denied  the  house, 
and  Emmie  had  declared  that  she  would  rather 
leave  the  country  than  see  him  again. 

"  In  fact,"  Gerald  said,  "she  has  surprised 
me  by  showing  gleams  of  sense,  and  even  reason 
since  the  other  night.  She  said  to  Molly  of  her 
own  accord  that  she  would  not  be  surprised  if 
she,  Molly,  had  been  right  all  the  time,  and  that 
163 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

it  was  really  O'Hara  who  interfered  with  her  on 
the  road  that  evening." 

"  And  what  said  Molly?  "  asked  Kate,  much 
interested. 

"Oh,  she  laughed,  and  said  she  wouldn't  be 
surprised  either,  only  how  was  his  legend  about 
the  bullocks  to  be  explained  away." 

"Well,"  prompted  Kate. 

"  That  puzzled  Emmie.  She  went  away 
reflecting,  '  he  certainly  did  have  a  black 
eye.'  " 

They  both  laughed  heartily  at  this,  for  Kate 
had  been  made  acquainted  with  all  the  details 
of  the  incident  the  day  after  it  happened.  Then 
the  conversation  turned  to  subjects  of  more 
personal  interest. 

"  When  will  you  give  us  another  skating 
party  on  the  Priory  pond?  "  asked  Gerald. 

"  The  very  next  frost,"  she  answered.  •"  This 
one  is  about  over.  There's  a  bone  in  the  ground 
still,  but  the  surface  is  quite  soft." 

"  Are  you  glad  its  gone  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  There's  the  hunting  and  all 
that  to  compensate  one,  but  I  loved  the  skating." 

"  So  did  I,"  said  Gerald  with  rapturous 
remembrance,  "  especially  that  first  day.  Shall. 
I  ever  forget  that  evening  ?  " 

"And  that  moon;  wasn't  it  lovely?"  She 
flushed  a  little  at  the  recollection. 

"  It  was  the  crown  and  climax  of  my  home- 
coming," he  cried.  "  Oh,  Kate — may  I  call  you 
Kate?" 

"Why     not?"     she     answered,     demurely. 
"Your  niece  and  nephew  do.' 
164 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"  Thank  you,  and  will  you  remember,  in  your 
turn,  that  I  was  christened  Gerald?  " 

"That  will  be  quite  easy.  We  always  speak 
of  you  as  Uncle  Gerald." 

"Oh,  not  that,"  he  protested.  "  Don't  be 
cruel." 

"Very  well,  but  really  'uncle'  is  such  a 
respectable  title.  The  only  uncle  I  ever  had  was 
Jack's  father,  and  I  never  saw  him  that  I  know 
of." 

"I'm  not  the  least  ambitious  to  be  your  uncle, 
Kate,"  he  said;  and  forthwith  tried  to  turn  back 
the  conversation  into  the  track  he  was  deter- 
mined it  should  follow.  For  he  had  made  up 
his  mind  to  put  his  fate  to  the  touch  before  he 
left  Ireland,  and  when  could  he  hope  to  find  a 
more  favourable  opportunity  ? 

"  We  were  talking  of  your  skating  party,"  he 
said. 

"  Yes,"  she  assented.  "  Aren't  you  sorry  the 
weather  prevents  our  having  another.  But  one 
can't  skate  without  ice,  can  one?  To  be  sure 
there  are  rollers.  They  are  very  popular  in 
America,  I  am  told." 

"Kate,"  he  cried  in  desperation,  "are  you 
ever  serious?  " 

"Very  often,"  she  answered.  "How  would 
you  like  a  good  brisk  trot  now  ?  It  will  be  some 
compensation  for  the  lost  ice  party." 

"  I  don't  want  a  party,"  he  said  petulantly, 
"and  I  don't  want  ice." 

"Not  for  skating?"  she  asked,  assuming  a 
very  becoming  air  of  surprise. 

"  It  isn't  the  pond  I  recall  with  such  pleasure," 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

he  continued,  and  there  was  more  than  a  hint  of 
passion  in  his  voice,  "  it  is  the  terrace.  Don't 
you  remember  it  all,  Kate?  The  slow  climb 
home;  the  gathering  dusk,  the  faint  touch  of 
crimson  in  the  sky  past  the  house — the — the 
things  we  talked  of.  And  then  the  night  with 
its  million  stars,  and  the  moon  making  lace  out 
of  the  shadows  of  the  beech  twigs  at  our  very 
feet.  I  felt  so  near  you.  My  heart  was  very 
full  that  night." 

He  paused,  but  she  made  no  sign.  She  was 
looking  straight  between  her  horse's  ears,  and 
but  for  the  quickened  heave  of  her  bosom — and 
that  may  have  been  his  fancy — he  could  not  be 
sure  she  had  heard  him.  But  he  was  resolved 
that  this  day  should  end,  for  good  or  ill,  the 
suspense  in  which  this  strange  girl  held  him. 
He  went  ,on. 

"  Don't  you  understand  me,  Kate.  Don't 
you  see  why  that  evening  was  the  climax  of  my 
visit?" 

She  turned  toward  him  at  last.  "  I  don't  want 
to  understand  you.  I  like  you — well,  there,  I 
like  you  very  much  indeed.  Don't  spoil  it. 
Can't  you  leave  us  as  we  are  ?  " 

"  That's  impossible,"  he  said,  decidedly.  "  It 
must  be  all  or  nothing.  Don't  send  me  away. 
Don't  let  me  leave  home  as  I  left  it  before — a 
failure." 

He  had  drawn  close  to  her — so  close  that  his 
knee  almost  touched  the  flap  of  her  saddle.  In 
his  earnestness  he  had  laid  his  hand  on  her 
horse's  neck,  waiting,  breathless  for  her  reply. 

She  touched  Red  Rover  with  the  whip  and 
166 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

drew  away  from  his  side  so  suddenly  that  he 
thought  for  a  moment  she  had  taken  offence  at 
his  words.  But  as  he  raised  his  head  he  saw 
O'Hara  riding  towards  them  and  saluting  with 
his  crop  as  he  passed.  Mechanically,  Gerald 
returned  the  salute,  and  then,  with  a  touch  of 
the  spur,  shot  forward  and  resumed  his  place  at 
Kate's  bridle. 

"  Confound  that  fellow,"  he  muttered.  "  Is 
he  to  cross  me  at  every  turn  ?  " 

But  try  as  he  would,  he  could  not  win  Katf 
back  to  a  serious  vein. 


167 


CHAPTER   XX. 

GERALD  DELANEY  is  CONFRONTED  WITH  HIS 
SIGNATURE. 

MOLLY'S  wedding  day  had  been  fixed  for  the 
first  week  in  February — a  day  or  two  before 
Gerald's  departure.  He  was  to  give  the  bride 
away — an  office  which  Bob  willingly  surrendered. 
Jack  had  obtained  an  extension  of  his  holiday 
sufficient  for  a  brief  honeymoon. 

The  bustle  of  preparation  lent  an  unwonted 
animation  to  the  old  house ;  there  were  dress- 
makers down  from  Dublin,  and  Molly  was  in 
such  constant  demand  for  "fitting"  that  Jack 
Whalen  complained  he  never  got  a  chance  to 
say  more  than  "good  morning"  to  her. 

Kate  gave  the  entire  trousseau,  and  she  gave 
with  a  liberal  hand.  Molly,  wno  had  never 
owned,  or  indeed  seen  such  frocks  before,  was 
in  a  perpetual  fever  of  excitement  and  delight. 
Gerald,  as  each  fresh  parcel  arrived,  would  shake 
his  head  and  pretend  to  commiserate  with  Jack. 

"  Ruin,  black  ruin,  old  chap,"  he  would  say. 
"  How  many  years'  salary  do  you  calculate  it 
will  take  to  get  this  little  lot  through  the  New 
York  customs?  " 

Mrs.  Delaney  continued  very  subdued 
throughout  this  busy  time.  She  refused  to  go 
outside  the  place — indeed,  she  could  scarcely  be 
induced  to  leave  the  house,  lest  she  should 
meet  O'Hara.  She  often  wept  as  she  contem- 
plated Molly's  finery,  but  generally  withdrew  to 
1 68 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

indulge  her  grief  elsewhere,  lest  her  tears  might 
spot  the  delicate  fabrics. 

Bob,  meanwhile,  was  more  interested  in  the 
preparation  of  Liscarrick  than  he  was  in  his 
sister's  approaching  wedding.  Now  that  the 
weather  had  moderated  he  had  the  colt  out 
daily,  and  was  endeavouring  to  arrange  for  his 
reception  at  a  famous  training  establishment  in 
Kildare,  but  this  was  a  matter  which  demanded 
ready  money,  and  his  pockets  were  empty.  To 
hints  and  supplications  alike  his  uncle  turned  a 
deaf  ear,  nor  was  he  to  be  moved  by  all  the 
specious  arguments  the  young  fellow  could 
advance.  Gerald  was  determined  that  the  horse, 
so  far  as  his  value  would  go,  should  be  used  to 
redeem  the  note  and  for  no  other  purpose. 

This  fast  maturing  note  gave  him  an  occa- 
sional qualm,  especially  when  the  vision  of  it 
came  at  night  to  his  wakeful  eyes,  but  Kate 
Fetherstone's  image  just  now  so  filled  his  mind 
that  he  thought  of  little  else,  and,  constitution- 
ally careless  as  he  was  in  money  matters,  let 
things  drift. 

It  was  with  a  shock  of  very  unpleasant  sur- 
prise that  he  received  a  formal  notification  from 
the  National  Bank  at  Drine  calling  his  attention 
to  his  acceptance  for  sixteen  hundred  and  forty- 
eight  pounds,  some  odd  shillings  and  pence,  and 
requesting  the  deposit  of  funds  to  meet  it. 

This  acted  like  a  cold  douche  on  his  lovesick 
brain,  and  braced  him  to  instant  energy.  He 
was  quite  conscious  that  he  owed  it  to  the  con- 
sideration of  the  local  bank  manager,  who  was 
an  old  acquaintance,  that  this  demand  had  not 
169 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

taken  the  form  of  a  notice  of  protest.  He  called 
to  Bob  to  fetch  round  the  pony  trap  and  hold 
himself  in  readiness  to  drive  into  Drine,  and 
then,  with  bank  book  and  cheque  book  before 
him,  went  into  an  elaborate  calculation  of  ways 
and  means. 

The  result  was  discouraging.  He  had  some- 
thing over  £500  to  his  credit.  By  the  sacrifice 
of  every  penny  he  owned  in  the  world,  he  could 
not  come  within  a  thousand  pounds  of  redeeming 
his  acceptance.  And  Bob,  as  he  knew,  had  only 
a  few  shillings. 

Just  as  they  were  starting  Molly  came  running 
downstairs  and  begged  for  a  seat.  The  great 
work  of  the  trousseau  was  paralysed  for  lack 
of  some  trifling  matter — thread  or  braid  or 
buttons — and  she  hoped  that  Rogers'  emporium 
at  Drine  might  supply  the  deficiency. 

Gerald  alighted  at  the  Bank,  and  directed  Bob 
to  join  him  at  McMaster's  office  after  he  had 
dropped  Molly  at  Rogers'.  Bob  felt  very  un- 
comfortable, and  tried  to  wriggle  out  of  the 
appointment.  He  knew  his  sins  were  on  the 
point  of  finding  him  out,  and  he  had  no  wish 
to  be  present  at  the  discovery.  But  his  uncle 
was  peremptory,  and  he  was  forced  to  submit. 

The  interview  with  the  manager  was  as  un- 
satisfactory as  it  was  brief.  Mr.  Allen  was 
much  surprised  at  Gerald's  exposition  of  the  real 
state  of  his  finances.  Like  everyone  else,  the 
bank  officials  had  accepted  common  report,  and 
credited  the  Californian  with  wealth  inexhaust- 
ible, and  as  Gerald  had  kept  a  fair  balance  and 
neither  asked  nor  needed  favours  of  any  kind, 
170 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

they  had  never  had  occasion  to  enquire  into  his 
position. 

Mr.  Allen  shook  his  head  gravely  when  he 
realised  the  situation. 

"  Mr.  O'Hara  is  not  altogether  a  pleasant 
person  to  deal  with,  and  as  for  Mr.  McMaster — 
well,  of  course,  he  will  act  on  his  client's  in- 
structions, whatever  they  may  be.  I  am  very 
sorry  for  you,  Mr.  Delaney ;  very  sorry  indeed. 
Perhaps  the  best  thing  is  to  do  as  you  propose. 
Go  and  see  McMaster  and  try  to  come  to  some 
arrangement.  We  don't  close  till  three  o'clock, 
you  have  some  hours  before  you." 

"  And  if  no  arrangement  can  be  come  to  in 
that  time,"  said  Gerald,  questioningly. 

"  The  note  will  go  to  protest  as  a  matter  of 
course,"  replied  the  other. 

11  Thank  you.  I  understand.  Well,  good 
morning,"  and  he  crossed  the  street  towards  the 
attorney's  office,  expecting  to  find  his  nephew 
awaiting  him  in  the  doorway. 

But  there  was  no  sign  of  Bob. 

"  Hang  it,  he  hasn't  given  me  the  slip  1 
hope,"  thought  Gerald,  and  he  returned  to  the 
Bank  on  the  chance  that  his  nephew  had  mis- 
understood his  instructions  and  was  awaiting 
him  there.  As  he  crossed  the  street,  a  clatter 
of  hoofs,  as  of  a  horse  furiously  driven  and  very 
close  at  hand,  caused  him  to  spring  back  on  the 
pavement.  A  pony  trap  swept  by  at  full  speed, 
a  girl  driving.  She  was  alone  in  the  vehicle, 
and  was  plying  the  whip  and  urging  on  the 
pony  as  if  she  were  bound  on  a  life  and  death 
errand. 

171 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"Why,  it's  Molly,"  ejaculated  her  uncle  in 
amazement.  "What's  come  over  the  child?  I 
suppose  she's  got  her  hooks  and  eyes  and  counts 
every  minute  lost  till  she  has  delivered  them.  I 
wonder  how  she  expects  we  are  to  get  home. 
Hoof  it,  I  suppose,"  and  here-entered  the  bank. 

Bob  had  not  been  there.  Seriously  annoyed, 
yet  feeling  he  had  no  time  to  waste,  Gerald  again 
sought  the  attorney's  office,  and  there,  in  the 
doorway,  breathing  hard  as  if  from  a  sharp  run, 
and  looking  thoroughly  sheepish  and  uncom- 
fortable, stood  his  truant  nephew. 

"Where  have  you  been?"  enquired  Gerald 
crossly.  "  I've  been  looking  for  you  every- 
where." And  without  waiting  for  a  reply  he 
went  on.  "What's  the  matter  with  Molly?  I 
saw  her  just  now  tearing  down  the  street  as  if 
the  devil  was  after  her." 

"  Molly,"  said  Bob  stupidly.  "  Are  you  sure 
it  was  Molly?" 

"  Am  I  sure?  She  very  nearly  ran  over  me. 
She  was  going  at  the  rate  of  a  fire  engine,  and 
the  trap  swaying  as  if  it  would  upset.  We'll 
have  to  walk  home  I  expect,  but  there's  plenty 
to  do  first.  A  pretty  mess  you've  landed  us  in 
with  your  race  horses.  Come  in.  We've  got 
to  have  it  out  with  McMaster." 

And  Bob,  feeling  smaller  than  he  had  ever 
felt  in  his  life  before,  followed  his  uncle  into  the 
house.  But  before  they  reached  the  door  of  the 
attorney's  sanctum,  he  plucked  Gerald  by  the 
sleeve. 

"Uncle,"  he  faltered,  "  I— I— oh,  wait  a 
minute,  I  want  to  speak  to  you  before  we  go  in." 
173 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

Gerald  turned  and  faced  round. 

'"'  Hurry  up,  then,  old  chap.  I  want  to  get 
this  thing  over." 

But  Bob  was  in  no  condition  to  hurry.  He 
found  it  very  hard  to  get  out  the  necessary  words 
at  all,  but  in  the  end  he  managed  to  convey  to 
his  uncle  some  approximation  to  the  truth. 
When  he  came  to  the  share  certificates,  Gerald 
interrupted  him. 

"  Let  us  have  this  clear.  You  stole  them  out 
of  my  portmanteau?  " 

Bob  hung  his  head. 

"You're  a  credit,  I  must  say.  And  you 
pawned  them  off  upon  O'Hara  as  valuable 
securities." 

11  I'm  awfully  sorry.  I  never  meant  to.  I 
was  only  going  to  bounce  about  them.  It  was  to 
McMaster  I  showed  them." 

"  And  he's  got  them  now?  " 

"  Oh  dear  no,"  replied  Bob  glibly.  "  They're 
all  safe  in  your  room  at  home.  Oh  Uncle,  I  am 
sorry.  I  don't  know  what  you  must  think  of 
me." 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you.  I  think  you're  an  unmit- 
igated young  blackguard  and  ungrateful  to  boot. 
I  was  ass  enough  to  try  to  pull  you  out  of  a  hole ; 
you  were  mean  enough  to  pull  me  in  on  the  top 
of  you,  having  first  made  the  hole  immeasurably 
deeper.  How  dare  you  tell  these  people  that  I 
am  a  man  of  means  when  you  know  I'm  no  such 
thing,  and  when  I  expressly  forbade  you  to  make 
any  kind  of  false  pretences  about  me.  False 
pretences,  indeed;  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  Mc- 
Master could  jail  you  for  this.  In  with  you  and 
173 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

have  it  out  with  him,"  and  Gerald  knocked  at 
the  door. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Delaney,"  said  the 
attorney  as  they  entered.  "  I  was  just  drafting 
a  letter  to  you  on  the  subject  of  that  note." 

"That  is  what  we  have  called  about,"  replied 
Gerald. 

"  Exactly,  I  thought  there  must  be  some  mis- 
take," said  McMaster  in  his  most  urbane  tones. 
"  Won't  you  be  seated — and  you,  too,  Mr. 
Robert.  Quite  so.  I  was  astonished  yesterday 
when  Mr.  Allen  informed  me  that  there  were 
no  funds  to  take  up  the  acceptance.  But  I  knew 
it  must  be  an  oversight." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  am  not  in  a  position  to 
take  it  up,"  replied  Gerald  steadily,  while  Bob 
writhed  in  his  chair.  "You  have  been  misin- 
formed as  to  my  means  and  position,  and  I  am 
here  to  make  the  best  offer  in  my  power — to  give 
you  notes  at  such  dates  as  we  can  agree  upon 
for  ,£1,200  and  to  pay  you  the  balance  in  cash." 

As  Gerald  spoke  the  attorney's  mouth  opened 
wider  and  wider,  and  his  eyebrows  went  up  till 
they  almost  touched  his  hair.  For  a  moment  he 
could  not  speak,  but  leaned  forward,  his  hands 
on  the  arms  of  his  chair,  as  if  about  to  rise. 
Then  he  sank  back  in  his  seat. 

"  That  is  a  curious  statement,  Mr.  Gerald 
Delaney,"  he  said  at  last.  "  If  it  is  true,  may  I 
ask  with  what  object  you  have  systematically 
passed  yourself  off  as  a  wealthy  man  ever  since 
you  returned  to  the  neighbourhood." 

"  I  have  done  nothing  of  the  sort.  I  don't 
know  .what  maggot  people  may  have  got  in  their 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

heads,  but  I  never  spread  such  a  report,  nor  did 
I  know  it  existed  till  some  time  after  I  had 
returned." 

Gerald  spoke  calmly,  but  he  had  grown  sud- 
denly pale  and  there  was  an  ominous  tightening 
about  the  lips. 

"  At  least  you  knew  that  such  was  the  pre- 
vailing opinion  at  the  time  you  accepted  this 
note,  and  you  were  careful  not  to  set  it  right," 
said  the  attorney. 

"  I  cared,  or  was  careful  for  nothing  of  the 
sort,  and  I  would  recommend  you,  Mr.  Mc- 
Master,  to  be  careful  how  you  make  insinuations 
which  are  very  like  insults.  It  was  not  my 
business  to  go  about  the  place,  disclosing  my 
private  affairs  to  all  and  sundry." 

".You  are  attempting  to  take  a  tone  with  me 
which  your  position  does  not  warrant,"  said  Mc- 
Master  severely.  "  I  fancy  most  people  will 
think  that  it  was  sharp  practice,  to  use  no  harsher 
word,  to  trade  on  a  false  reputation  in  order  to 
smuggle  your  name  on  to  a  valuable  security, 
when  all  the  time  you  were  a  man  of  straw. 
What  about  that  Golden  Horseshoe  Mine? 
Your  nephew  told  me  in  this  very  room  that 
you  had  an  interest iin  that  running  into  the  hun- 
dreds of  thousands,"  and  the  attorney  lay  back 
in  his  chair  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  had 
crushed  his  opponent. 

"  My  nephew  was  very  wrong— -quite  mistaken 
in  saying  anything  like  that,"  Gerald  answered, 
loyally  endeavouring  for  the  sake  of  the  old  name 
to  screen  Bob's  trickery  so  far  as  possible.  "  It 
is  true  I  hold  something  like  a  quarter  interest  in 
175 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

an  undeveloped  mine.  It  may  be  worth  much 
or  little.  At  present,  I  don't  suppose  I  could 
raise  a  five  pound  note  on  it." 

11  Then  how  came  you "  began  McMaster, 

but  checked  himself.  "  After  all,  there  is  no- 
thing to  be  gained  by  discussing  the  matter 
here,"  he  resumed.  "  You  had  better  reserve 
your  defence  for  the  witness  box." 

'"  There  is  no  occasion  to  bring  it  into  court," 
Gerald  quietly  observed.  "  We  do  not  dispute 
that  the  money  is  owing." 

"There  is  such  a  thing  as  criminal  proceed- 
ings," replied  the  attorney  vindictively. 

Bob  bounded  from  his  seat. 

"  It  wasn't  my  uncle  at  all.  He  knew  nothing 
about  it.  I  found  the — 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  Bob.  Sit  down  and 
leave  this  to  me."  Then  Gerald  went  on,  turn- 
ing to  McMaster. 

"  Don't  talk  rubbish  about  criminal  proceed- 
ings. You  have  suffered  no  wrong.  The  debt 
existed  before  I  came  on  the  scene  at  all.  Be  the 
value  of  my  additional  guarantee  great  or  little, 
you  are  that  much  to  the  good." 

"No,  sir,"  retorted  the  lawyer.  "But  for 
your  interference  we  should  have  attached  and 
sold  the  horse." 

"  Attach  him  now,  by  all  means,"  cried  Gerald, 
"and  sell  him  if  you  can  find  a  purchaser.  I  ask 
nothing  better." 

"  I  am   not  sure  that  my  client  cares  to  be 

troubled  with  the  animal,"  replied  the  attorney, 

feeling  that  he  had  rather  overshot  the  mark. 

"  You  will  understand  that  this  repudiation  of 

176 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

yours  has  taken  me  by  surprise.  I  will  consult 
Mr.  O'Haraand  determine  with  him  what  course 
to  take." 

"  I  think,  in  your  client's  interests,  it  is  the 
best  thing  you  can  do,"  Gerald  said.  "  But  you 
will  oblige  me  by  not  using  such  a  word  as  re- 
pudiation. I  stand  by  my  signature  and  repu- 
diate nothing.  I  now  formally  renew  my  offer. 
Four  hundred  pounds  cash,  the  balance  in  notes 
at  six,  twelve,  and  eighteen  months,  on  which  I 
am  willing  to  pay  six  per  cent,  interest.  You 
may  call  me  a  man  of  straw,  Mr.  McMaster,  but 
I  am  also  a  man  of  my  word;  and  I  am  not  a 
pauper.  Or  in  the  alternative,  seize  the  horse — 
I  wish  to  heaven,  you  seized  it  long  ago — and 
apply  whatever  he  fetches  to  the  debt.  I  advise 
you  to  lay  this  scheme  before  your  client.  It 
seems  to  me  the  only  chance  he  has  of  getting  his 
money.  If  ,£400  will  not  pay  the  deficit,  I  will 
give  my  note  for  the  balance  at  my  own  date, 
bearing  interest  as  I  specified.  And  if  I  live, 
that  note  will  be  met  at  maturity." 

"And  if  you  do  not  live,"  suggested  the 
lawyer. 

"You  can  insure  my  life,"  said  Gerald  shortly. 
And,  beckoning  Bob  to  follow,  he  left  the  room. 


177 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

KATE'S  EYES  ARE  OPENED. 

BOB  had  driven  Molly  to  Rogers'  as  requested, 
but  he  purposely  took  her  a  long  way  round,  for 
he  wished  to  consult  her,  and,  as  a  drowning  man 
will  clutch  at  a  straw,  he  poured  out  the  whole 
was  in  his  sister's  ear,  though  even  to  her  he 
was  not  quite  ingenuous.  He  strove  to  gloss 
over,  and  where  that  was  impossible  to  excuse 
the  discreditable  part  he  himself  had  played,  and 
dwelt  much  on  the  firm  belief  he  had  always 
entertained  in  his  uncle's  wealth. 

But  Molly  knew  her  brother,  and  instantly 
arrived  at  an  opinion  of  the  whole  transaction, 
which  was  very  nearly  correct.  She  saw  at  a 
glance  how  serious  the  situation  might  become — 
O'Hara  rejected  and  incensed,  Gerald  ignorant 
of  the  shifts  and  pretences  by  which  his  nephew 
had  secured  his  object.  She  hardly  listened  to 
Bob's  excuses. 

"  Go  straight  to  Uncle  Gerald,  tell  him  exactly 
what  you  have  done.  He  must  know  the  truth 
before  he  sees  McMaster." 

"  But  he  will  be  awfully  angry,"  objected 
Bob. 

"  I  should  think  he  ought  to  be.  That 
doesn't  matter,  you  have  put  him  in  a  dreadful 
position.  The  least  you  can  do  is  to  see  that  he 
does  not  fight  these  people  blindfold." 

It  was  by  no  means  characteristic  of  Molly  that 
178 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

she  uttered  scarce  a  word  of  reproach  to  her 
brother  during  his  confession.  It  seemed  to  her 
a  terrible  thing — an  inconceivable  thing.  It 
sickened  and  almost  stunned  her.  But  time  was 
precious.  Recrimination  could  come  later.  So 
she  saw  Bob  started  on  his  unwelcome  errand, 
and  then,  turning  her  pony,  lashed  it  into  a  gal- 
lop as  she  took  the  homeward  road.  "She  did  not 
even  see  her  uncle  when  he  jumped  back  to  es- 
cape the  flying  hoofs,  though  he  rilled  all  her 
thoughts. 

"  Poor  uncle  Gerald,"  she  was  saying  to  her- 
self. "  Nothing  but  worry  and  trouble  ever  since 
he  came  home,  and  now  this — the  worst  of  all !" 

It  was  to  Kate  Fetherstone  that  Molly  had 
been  for  years  accustomed  to  turn  in  all  her 
troubles,  and  almost  instinctively  she  now  sought 
the  friend  whom  she  had  always  found  so  helpful 
in  her  helplessness. 

1  My  poor  little  girl,"  Kate  said,  sympatheti- 
cally, when  Molly  had  incoherently  poured  out 
her  woes,  "  you  musn't  let  all  this  distress  you 
so;  you  did  quite  right  to  come  to  me.  Bob,  as 
I  understand  it,  has  been  getting  into  difficulties 
and  giving  notes  that  he  can't  meet.  Well,  he's 
a  very  naughty  boy,  but  I  can't  have  you  break- 
ing your  heart  about  him.  His  uncle,  you  say, 
will  not  help  him." 

"  No,  no,  no!"  cried  the  girl.  "  I  must  have 
been  stupid  and  explained  myself  badly.  Uncle 
Gerald  has  been  awfully  good,  and  signed  this 
wretched  note  to  gain  time  for  him.  Now,  they 
are  coming  down  on  him  for  it,  and  expect  him 
to  pay  it." 

170 


WHERE  THE  SHAMRpCK  GROWS 

"  A  very  natural  expectation,"  laughed  Kate. 
"  People  that  sign  notes  must  meet  them.  The 
best  thing  your  uncle  can  do,  after  giving  his 
foolish  nephew  a  good  scolding,  is  to  pay  and 
look  pleasant." 

"  But  he  can't.  He  hasn't  the  money.  All 
he  has  is  a  few  hundred  pounds,  and  they  want 
ever  so  much  more." 

"  Your  uncle  Gerald  has  only  a  few  hun- 
dreds," Kate  cried,  in  astonishment.  "Why, 
I  thought  he  was  a  millionaire,  or  something  like 
it." 

"So  we  all  thought,"  answered  Molly,  "but 
he  isn't.  That  mine  of  his — I  was  asking  him 
about  it  only  the  other  day.  He  says  its  nothing 
but  a  hole  in  the  ground.  He  has  nothing  but 
his  salary  as  newspaper  correspondent." 

Kate  was  silent.  Her  thoughts  flew  back  to 
the  many,  many  intimate  conversations  she  had 
held  with  Gerald.  Had  he  ever  disclosed  his 
real  position  to  her  ?  She  was  sure  he  had  not. 
On  the  other  hand,  he  had  never  posed  as  a 
wealthy  man.  She  had  accepted  him  as  such; 
but,  then,  he  had  allowed  her  so  to  accept  him. 
He  had  deceived  her,  none  the  less  effectually 
because  tacitly.  And  she  had  given  him  her 
heart;  nay,  more,  she  had  quite  made 
her  mind  up  to  give  him  her  hand  when  he  asked 
for  it.  The  penniless  adventurer  wooing  the 
heiress!  That  ride  they  had  taken  together! 
But  for  the  accidental  meeting  with  O'Hara  she 
might  be  even  now  his  affianced  wife.  The  one 
great  dread  of  her  life,  but  for  this  opportune 
discovery,  might  have  become  a  reality.  She 
1 80 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

had   been    wooed   and    well-nigh   won    for    her 
money. 

Molly  watched  the  changing  face  with  keen 
anxiety.  She  had  no  clue  to  the  other's 
thoughts,  but  she  plainly  saw  that  something — 
something  that  had  nothing  to  do  with  Bob  or 
his  embarrassments — had  stricken  Kate  old  and 
haggard  in  a  moment.  She  slipped  from  her 
seat  to  her  knees  and  caught  her  friend's  hand. 

"  Kate,  dear  Kate,  what  have  I  said?  What 
has  hurt  you  so?  Speak  to  me,  dear.  I  can't 
bear  to  see  you  look  like  that.  I  wish  I  had 
never  come  to  you  with  this  trouble  if  it  upsets 
you  so." 

Miss  Fetherstone  drew  the  girl  towards  her 
and  b'ssed  her,  but  it  was  a  moment  or  two  before 
she  ccald  trust  her  voice  to  reply. 

"You  were  quite  right  to  come  to  me,  dear 
little  friend,"  she  said  presently.  "Come  to  me 
with  all  your  troubles.  I  can  never  be  too 
thankful  you  brought  me  this  one." 

Then  she  fell  silent  again.  That  night  on 
the  terrace,  the  passion  that  had  vibrated  in  his 
tones !  Could  men  be  so  base,  could  they  stoop 
so  low  to  gain  wealth  ?  And  she,  if  she  had 
yielded,  what  a  fate  had  been  hers.  Bought  and 
sold,  for  the  value  that  was  in  her,  like  a  sheep 
at  a  fair. 

Molly  waited  for  her  to  continue,  but  for 
whole  minutes  only  the  ticking  of  the  clock  on 
the  mantel  broke  the  silence.  At  last  she  ven- 
tured a  timid  questioning,  "  yes  "  ? 

Kate   roused   herself  with  a  start.      "  I   beg 
your    pardon,   dear.        What  were   we  talking 
ifti 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

about?  Oh,  to  be  sure.  This  trouble  your 
people  have  got  into.  I  meant,  when  you  told 
me  first,  to  have  tried  to  arrange  the  matter  for 
Bob " 

"Oh,  thank  you,  dear!"  broke  in  Molly  grate- 
fully. 

The  other  continued,  speaking  in  a  cold,  level 
voice — 

"  But  as  you  explain  it,  it  seems  rather  your 
uncle's  affair.  I  am  afraid  I  could  not  presume 
to  interfere." 

Molly  was  clever  enough,  and  she  was  quite 
familiar  with  the  views  Miss  Fetherstone  held 
on  courtship  and  marriage,  nor  had  Gerald's 
attitude  towards  Kate,  on  the  many  occasions 
she  had  seen  them  together,  escaped  the  girl's 
keen  eyes.  She  had  watched  the  growth  of  that 
romance  with  an  assured  hope  that  it  would  have 
a  happy  ending.  So  the  tone  in  which  Miss 
Fetherstone  had  announced  that  she  could  not 
presume  to  interfere  in  her  uncle's  affairs,  spoke 
volumes  to  Molly's  ear.  It  told  her  that  the 
sudden  announcement  of  Gerald's  true  position 
had  re-awakened  in  Kate  the  haunting  fear  that 
she  was  being  sought,  not  for  herself  but  for 
what  she  had. 

"Oh,  but  Kate,  dear,"  she  cried,  "you 
mustn't  misunderstand  Uncle  Gerald.  He  never 
pretended  to  be  anything  but  what  he  really  is. 
It  was  all  our  own  silly  faults.  We  would  have 
it  that  he  was  so  rich — I  don't  know  why,  except 
that  he  was  always  so  generous,  and  used  to  give 
us  presents  that  you  would  only  expect  a  very 
rich  man  to  make.  And  you  know  the  wild 
182 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

ideas  people  here  have  about  anyone  that  come* 
from  America.  But  this,  I  am  sure — never  by 
word  or  act  did  Uncle  Gerald  try  to  deceive  any- 
one, and  I'm  sure  he'd  rather  die  than  deceive 
you." 

But  Kate's  mind  was  in  its  most  morbid  state, 
and  she  only  saw  in  this  impassioned  appeal  a 
confirmation  of  her  betrayal.  The  whole  Delaney 
family,  then,  were  in  league  to  capture  the 
heiress.  Well,  from  their  point  of  view  it  was 
natural  enough.  For  herself  it  was  only  one 
more  disillusionment,  but  far  the  worst. 

"  I  am  sure  I  am  far  from  criticising  any 
course  Mr.  Gerald  Delaney  has  chosen  to  adopt. 
I  am  surprised  to  hear  he  is  not  a  wealthy  man ; 
I  had  somehow  always  fancied  he  was,  and  I  am 
sorry  for  his  and  all  your  sakes  it  is  not  so.  But 
of  course  it  is  no  business  of  mine." 

The  girl  regarded  her  wistfully.  This  tone 
was  new  to  her.  She  longed  to  speak — she  had 
so  much  to  say  in  praise  of  her  adored  uncle — but 
she  feared  to  make  matters  worse,  and  remained 
silent. 

"  And,  now,  Molly,"  Kate  continued,  "  I'm 
afraid  I  must  send  you  away.  I'd  ask  you  to 
stay  and  have  some  lunch,  but  I  have  a  head- 
ache, and  fear  you'd  find  me  poor  company.  I 
think  I  had  better  lie  down." 

"  Poor  you,"  the  girl  said,  wistfully.  She 
had  much  ado  to  choke  back  her  tears. 

Kate  held  out  her  hand.  Molly  noticed  she 
did  not  offer  to  kiss  her. 

"  Good-bye.      I  hope  this  little  difficulty  will 
arrange  itself  satisfactorily." 
183 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"I  hope  so;  I'm  only  sorry  I  troubled  you 
about  it,"  Molly  replied. 

And  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  left  the 
Priory  far  more  sadly  than  she  had  entered  it. 

When  she  had  gone  Kate  threw  herself  on 
the  sofa. 

"Oh,  the  shame  of  it!  The  bitter,  burning 
shame  of  it !  Is  it  always  to  be  so  with  me.  And 
I  could  have  loved  him!  God  help  me,  I  do 
love  him!" 


184 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

MISUNDERSTANDING. 

GERALD  had  done  all  in  his  power,  and  could 
now  only  await  the  event.  Whether  O'Hara 
would  be  inclined  or  not  to  accept  such  composi- 
tion as  he  was  able  to  offer,  he  had  no  means  of 
knowing.  His  best  hope  was  that  the  creditor 
might  seize  the  horse ;  his  worst  fear,  that  Bob 
would  be  thrown  into  bankruptcy  and  Liscarrick 
sold.  And  all  the  while  his  sensitive  pride 
tingled  at  the  thought  of  lying  under  the  suffer- 
ance of  such  a  man  as  O'Hara.  Had  it  been 
in  his  power  he  would  have  gladly  paid  up, 
though  it  had  beggared  him. 

Molly  had  told  him  something  of  her  last  in- 
terview with  Kate  Fetherstone,  and  the  deduction 
she  had  drawn  therefrom.  This  gave  Gerald 
more  concern  than  all  the  rest.  The  very  next 
morning  saw  him  on  his  way  to  the  Priory, 
resolved,  as  he  said,  to  have  it  out  with  Kate. 
As  he  went  he  pondered,  reviewing,  even  as  she 
had  done,  the  course  of  their  friendship,  and 
trying  to  remember  how  much  or  how  little  had 
been  said,  how  much  or  how  little  had  been  with- 
held. 

Of  any  intentional  deception  his  conscience 
acquitted  him.  Since  Kate  Fetherstone  had 
crossed  his  horizon  he  had  come  to  regard  her  as 
the  one  woman  in  the  world  for  him — the  one  he 
coveted;  the  one  he  would  do  his  best  to  win, 
185 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

Creature  of  moods  and  impulses  as  she  was,  he 
had  found  her  infinitely  charming,  and  the  ques- 
tion of  money  had  never  entered  his  thoughts 
in  connection  with  her,  save  when  she  introduced 
it  herself  in  the  course  of  some  of  her  morbid 
imaginings. 

By  habit  and  training  Gerald  was  more  than 
half  an  American,  and  he  looked  at  these  things 
as  an  American  might  be  expected  to  look.  If 
he  brought  to  the  common  stock  his  love  and 
all  else  that  he  had,  be  that  much  or  little,  he 
considered  that  he  was  contributing  as  liberally 
as  his  chosen  bride,  who  could  bring  no  more 
though  she  were  richer  than  King  Midas. 

He  knew,  however,  that  Kate  would  look  at 
the  position  differently,  viewing  it  through  the 
distorting  medium  of  her  own  prejudices.  '  Pre- 
judices,' he  called  them,  and  yet  he  could  not 
but  make  allowance  for  Kate's  feelings — a 
woman  who  had  been  wooed  so  often,  but  never, 
as  she  believed,  loved  for  herself. 

By  the  time  he  rode  up  to  the  Priory  door  he 
had  all  his  facts  prepared,  all  his  arguments  mar- 
shalled. Hopefully  he  rang,  and  was  told  that 
Miss  Fetherstone  was  ill,  and  could  not  see 
anyone. 

Meanwhile  O'Hara  and  McMaster  were  not 
letting  the  grass  grow  under  their  feet.  The 
attorney  duly  submitted  Gerald's  proposition, 
which  Mat,  after  considering  it  in  all  its 
bearings,  was  prepared  to  accept. 

"  For  look  at  here,  Mac,"  he  argued.  "  If  I 
go  for  to  sell  up  the  ould  place,  by  yer  own 
showing  it'll  take  the  divil  of  a  lot  of  time,  an' 
186 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

I'm  not  denyin'  that  a  bit  o'  ready  would  be 
convaynient  just  now — will  ye  tell  me  the  time 
it  wouldn't  be?  An'  I  believe  in  the  thorough- 
bred if  ever  he  got  fair  play.  I'll  go  for  the 
little  harse,  Mac,  an'  what  money  I  can  get  to 
the  boot  of  him." 

"  You'd  get  every  penny  due  you  if  you  sold 
up  Robert  Delaney,"  said  the  attorney,  "  but  its 
for  you  to  decide." 

"Well,  now,  here's  the  truth  for  ye,"  said 
O'Hara.  "Ye  may  call  me  sintimintal  an'  a 

d d  fool,  but  I  couldn't  be  afther  sellin'  a 

house  where  I've  drunk  as  much  good  whiskey  as 
I  have  in  Liscarrick,  an'  Gerald  was  very  dacent 
to  me  in  the  latther  end — coverin'  me  with  a  rug 
that  night,  an'  pillows  to  me  head.  By-the-bye, 
have  ye  sarved  the  widow  with  papers,  or 
whatever  it  is  you  have  to  do  afore  ye  breach 
her." 

"  If  you  please,  we  will  keep  to  the  matter  in 
hand,"  said  the  lawyer,  repressing  a  smile. 
"  One  thing  at  a  time.  You've  decided,  then, 
to  accept  Mr.  Gerald  Delaney's  offer,  four  hun- 
dred pounds  in  cash,  and  his  notes  for  such 
further  deficit  as  the  sale  of  this  animal  leaves 
uncovered." 

"What  sale?  I'm  to  have  the  little  harse, 
ain't  I?" 

"  The  procedure  is  this.  We  distrain  on  the 
debtor's  goods — in  this  case  the  horse  is  practi- 
cally the  only  available  asset.  Then  the  goods 
— the  horse,  you  know,  are  sold  by  auction.  If 
they  fetch  more  than  the  debt,  the  excess  is 
returned  to  the  debtor.  If  they  fetch  less,  why 
187 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

Mr.  Gerald  stands  ready  to  make  up  the  differ- 
ence in  cash  and  notes." 

"  But  I  didn't  want  to  sell  the  little  harse.  I 
want  to  own  an'  run  him,"  objected  O'Hara. 

"  Well,  buy  him  in,"  said  McMaster.  "  You 
can  bid  at  the  auction  as  well  as  another." 

"  Maybe  he'll  go  higher  than  I  care  to  go," 
Mat  remarked. 

"Not  he,"  replied  the  attorney.  "  It's  my 
belief  fifty  pounds  will  buy  him.  Remember, 
there's  no  reserve  in  a  sale  like  this,  and  who's 
likely  to  bid  for  a  thoroughbred  in  these  parts. 
In  the  first  place  no  one  has  the  money,  and  in 
the  next  no  one  would  know  what  to  do  with  such 
\an  animal  if  he  had  it." 

"  Begorrah,  Mac,  ye've  a  great  head  on  you 
entirely,"  exclaimed  the  Squireen,  smacking  his 
knee  enthusiastically.  "  If  I  get  that  little  harse 
for  fifty — aye,  or  two  hundred  and  fifty,  I'll  have 
the  inside  of  the  deal — an'  Gerald's  four  hundred 
to  pay  it  with.  When  will  ye  sell  him  ?" 

"We  have  to  seize  him  first,"  began 
McMaster,  but  O'Hara  interrupted. 

"  Don't  seize  him  for  yer  life.  He  has  no  vice, 
but  he's  plenty  of  spirit.  Take  him  gently,  an' 
he'll  lead  like  a  sheep." 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  the  attorney,  impatiently, 
"  we  must  first  take  possession  of  the  animal — 
there  will  be  no  difficulty  about  that  under  the 
arrangement  Mr.  Gerald  proposes — then  the  sale 
must  be  advertised ' 

"That    settles  it,"    broke    in  Mat.        "The 
minute  Flannagan  hears  of  it  he'll  be  down,  an' 
he'd  go  over  a  thousand,  hopping." 
188 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"  We  need  only  advertise  in  the  local  paper, 
and  a  bill  or  two  at  the  chapel  door  and  on  a  few 
gate-posts.  Make  your  mind  easy.  It  will  be 
quite  a  local  affair." 

"  Begob,  Mac,  if  you  bring  this  off  for  me, 
I'll  say  ye're  the  greatest  lawyer'  ever  was 
pupped  by  the  divil,  an'  that's  sayin'  a  big 
word." 

And  nodding  to  his  friend,  O'Hara  lounged 
out  of  the  office. 

For  a  few  days  McMaster  was  busy  with  the 
preparation  for  his  projected  coup.  Judgment 
had  to  be  secured  on  the  protested  note  and  dis- 
tress issued  in  default  of  payment.  The  neces- 
sary legal  papers  were  served  on  Bob,  but  this 
gave  his  uncle  little  concern.  The  affair  was 
taking  the  course  he  had  hoped.  The  horse 
would  be  seized;  well  and  good.  He  could  not 
fail  to  fetch  ^1,000,  even  on  forced  sale.  Say 
he  only  brought  half  his  original  price — that 
would  be  ;£8oo,  Gerald  stood  ready  with  ^400 
more,  and  the  balance  could  await  his  conveni- 
ence. He  began  to  see  his  way  out  of  the 
tangle. 

But  if  the  sky  showed  signs  of  clearing  in  one 
direction,  in  another  the  clouds  lowered  dark  and 
ominous.  Every  day  for  a  week  Gerald  rode 
over  to  the  Priory  and  inquired  for  Miss  Fether- 
stone,  and  each  day  he  was  met  with  the  same 
answer,  delivered  in  unchanging  tones  by 
Bishop. 

"  Miss  Fetherstone  is  not  well,  sir,  and  is  not 
seeing  anyone." 

One  day  he  encountered  Mrs.  Purvis,  but  his 
189 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

Anxious  inquiries  elicited  little  from  that  estim- 
able lady. 

"  Dear  Kate  has  not  been  quite  herself  for  a 
few  days — nothing  serious — oh,  dear  no;  she 
seems  to  have  lost  her  appetite,  and  is  not  sleep- 
ing well.  No,  she  will  not  see  a  doctor.  Its 
really  nothing  to  be  alarmed  about.  Its  the 
change  in  the  weather,  I  expect.  Some  people 
find  these  thaws  very  trying.  Yes,  I'll  tell  her 
you  were  inquiring.  Good  morning." 

On  Sunday  Gerald  went  to  Molly. 

"  Look  here,  dear.  I'm  afraid  Kate  Fether- 
stone  is  very  ill.  Oughtn't  you  to  go  and  see 
her?  I'll  drive  you  over  if  you  like." 

"  I  don't  think  she  is  very  ill,  Uncle,  and  I 
am  sure  she  wouldn't  care  to  see  me.  I  don't 
think  I'd  better  go." 

"It  looks  so  unkind,  dear," 

"  Well,  if  you  think  so,  but  I'm  sure  its  no 
use." 

After  church,  Molly  went  to  the  Priory,  un- 
willingly enough,  but  she  would  have  under- 
taken more  distasteful  tasks  to  please  her  uncle. 
The  result  was  as  she  had  expected. 

"  Miss  Fetherstone's  love,  miss,  and  its  very 
good  of  you  to  call,  but  she  really  thinks  she 
had  better  keep  perfectly  quiet  for  a  few  days." 

So  Molly  returned  with  all  the  sensations  of 
having  received  a  snub,  and  Gerald  was  at  his 
wit's  end. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 
PLAIN  SPEAKING. 

MOLLY'S  visit  of  enquiry,  though  seemingly  un- 
availing, was  not  without  result.  For  a  whole 
week  Kate  had  borne  her  torture  in  solitude,  now 
framing  denunciations  of  Gerald's  perfidy  where- 
with to  overwhelm  him  when  they  met,  now 
conning  over  every  word  he  had  spoken  to  her, 
and  analysing  the  very  tone  of  each  utterance, 
hoping  to  acquit  him  of  deliberate  deceit.  But 
through  it  all  she  longed  to  see  him,  and  day 
after  day  she  resolutely  denied  herself  to  his 
enquiries,  suffering  perhaps,  more  than  he  did. 

No  sooner  had  Molly  gone  than  she  would 
have  recalled  her  message  if  she  could,  and 
resolved  to  see  her  on  the  next  occasion.  Molly 
did  not  come  again,  but  Gerald  called  as  usual 
the  next  day  and  Kate  received  him. 

He  thought  her  looking  pale,  though  that  was 
usual  to  her,  and  she  did  not  rise  to  greet  him. 
But  she  showed,  to  his  eye,  few  traces  of  recent 
illness. 

"  I  hope  you  are  better,"  he  said,  coming 
eagerly  forward. 

11  Much  better  thank  you  ;  quite  well  in  fact," 
she  replied.  "You  have  been  very  kind  and 
attentive  in  calling  to  enquire.  May  I  ask 
why?  " 

The  coldness  of  her  tone  chilled  Gerald.  Molly 
191 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

had  been  right  then.  But  he  answered  her  as  if 
they  both  stood  quite  on  the  old  footing. 

"  Why?  because  I  was  anxious.  Surely  you 
must  have  realised  by  this  time  that  your  health 
and  happiness  mean  a  great  deal  to  me." 

"So  I  had  begun  to  believe,"  she  replied. 
"  But  quite  lately  I  have  come  to  doubt  if  my 
health  and  happiness  are  the  possessions  of  mine 
which  interest  you  most." 

There  was  no  mistaking  her  meaning.  Gerald 
flushed  hotly  as  he  rose  from  his  chair,  but  she 
continued  in  the  same  cool,  cutting  tones. 

"  Mr.  Delaney,  you  have  passed  as  a  very  rich 
man.  Is  that  your  real  position  ?  " 

"  Far  from  it,"  he  answered. 

"  Then  why,  sir '  Kate's  temper  was 

beginning  to  rise  and  her  voice  shook — "then 
why  have  you  always  led  me  to  believe  that  you 
were?" 

"  I  never  told  you  anything  of  the  sort." 

His  temper  too,  was  going,  but  his  self  control 
was  far  greater  than  hers. 

"Granted,"  she  retorted,  "but  you  never 
denied  the  fact." 

"  Why  should  I  ?  "  he  asked  coolly. 

Then  Kate  blazed  out. 

"What  right  had  you  to  come  to  me  in  such 
a  guise  ?  What  business  had  you  to  speak  words 
of  love  to  me  if  you  did  not  care  for  me." 

"  Did  any  words  I  have  spoken  to  you  cause 
you  to  believe  I  cared  for  you  ?  " 

"They  did,"  she  answered  quickly.  "  And 
they  were  intended  to." 

•"  They  were,"  he  assented.     "  And  what  busi- 

IQ2 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

ness  have  you  to  doubt  that  I  meant  every  word 
I  uttered?" 

"Doubt!"  she  said  scornfully,  "when  we 
know,  we  doubt  no  longer.  We  are  no  strangers. 
.You  have  heard  my  opinions  and  my  experiences. 
We  have  discussed  them  many  a  time.  And 
yet  you  left  me  in  the  dark." 

"Miss  Fetherstone,"  Gerald  said  quietly,  "a 
^man  does  not  seek  the  woman  he  loves  with  a 
schedule  in  his  hand  of  his  assets  and  liabili- 
ties. He  tries  to  win  her  heart  first  of  all,  con- 
vinced that  if  he  can  do  that  all  the  rest  will 
follow.  At  least,  so  it  seems  to  me.  You  think 
differently.  In  you  I  see  a  noble  woman  whose 
nature  has  been  warped  by  the  consciousness  of 
undue  riches,  but  you  were  the  one  woman  in 
the  world  for  me,  and  I  thought,  if  I  could 
succeed  in  kindling  the  spark  of  real  love  within 
you,  I  could  lay  this  demon  of  distrust  that  you 
have  conjured  up,  and  make  you  forget  your 
money." 

"  Can  you  truthfully  say  that  you  forgot  it — 
that  all  this  time  you  have  never  thought  of  my 
money?  "  she  demanded. 

"I  have  thought  of  it  often  and  often,"  he 
replied,  "  and  always  to  curse  it  as  the  one  barrier 
circumstances  had  set  between  us." 

Kate  hesitated  a  moment,  and  for  a  moment 
Gerald  hoped  he  had  convinced  her.  But  her 
temper  ruled  her  still. 

"You  are  very  eloquent,"  she  sneered. 
"  The  most  eloquent  of  all  who  have  told  me  the 
same  tale  and  sworn,  as  you  do,  that  I  was  every- 
thing and  my  wealth  was  nothing.  But  I  found 

IQ3 

N 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

them  out  in  time,  as  I  have  found  you  out  to- 
day." 

"Then  there  is  no  more  to  be  said,"  replied 
Gerald.  "  I  pity  you  profoundly,  Kate.  You 
will  never  find  happiness.  Your  money  is  a 
curse  to  you." 

She  stared  wildly  at  him,  struggling  to  speak, 
but  the  words  would  not  come.  At  last  her 
overstrained  nerves  found  relief  in  a  wild, 
hysterical  burst  of  weeping.  She  threw  herself 
on  the  couch  and  buried  her  face  in  the  pillows. 

"A  curse  to  me,"  she  sobbed.  "Oh,  it  is 
that;  God  knows  it  is  that." 

But  Gerald  had  left  the  room. 

After  a  time  the  sobs  died  down  and  she  grew 
calmer.  Temper  had  been  effectually  quenched 
in  that  flow  of  tears.  She  rose  and  looked  in  a 
mirror. 

"  What  a  fright  I  am,"  she  exclaimed  aloud, 
"  and  oh,  but  I  am  so  miserable.  If  I  should 
be  wronging  him." 

Her  eyes  filled  again  at  the  possibility,  and  she 
turned  impatiently  away. 

n  If  this  goes  on  I  shall  be  making  myself 
ill,"  she  thought,  "and  he  is  not  worth  it. 
None  of  them  are." 

She  went  upstairs  and  locked  herself  in  her 
room,  refusing  to  appear  at  luncheon.  She 
denied  admittance  to  Mrs.  Purvis,  telling  that 
lady  through  the  door  that  she  needed  nothing, 
and  wished  to  be  left  alone.  Then  she  threw 
herself  on  the  bed  and  lay  for  more  than  an  hour 
—thinking,  thinking. 

This  grew  unbearable,  and  the  solitude  almost 

IQ4 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

equally  so.  She  rose  and  went  to  her  writing 
desk. 

"  Dearest  Molly,"  she  wrote,  "  will  you  spare 
one  of  your  happy  hours  to  poor,  miserable  me, 
and  come  over  and  have  a  cup  of  tea  with  me  in 
my  bedroom.  I  am  afraid  I  was  cross  to  you 
last  time  you  were  here,  but  I  was  very  upset  and 
out  of  sorts  at  the  time.  I  know — at  least  I  hope 
— that  you  will  forgive  me." 

And  she  signed  herself,  "  Yours  as  always, 
Kate." 

"  Tell  Nolan  to  take  this  note  over  to  Lis- 
carrick  and  wait  for  an  answer,"  she  said  to  the 
maid  who  appeared  in  response  to  her  ring. 
"  No,  just  tell  Nolan  I  want  to  see  him." 

When  the  girl  had  gone  she  tore  open  the 
envelope  and  added  a  few  lines. 

'"  Do  come,  dear,  and  come  at  once.  I  am 
sending  the  brougham.  I  would  love  you  to 
stay  all  night,  but  I  know,  under  the  circum- 
stances, that  is  asking  too  much,  so  I  will  send 
you  back  whenever  you  like." 

"  Nolan,"  she  said,  opening  the  door  when  the 
groom  knocked,  "  take  the  brougham  and  drive 
over  with  this  note  for  Miss  Delaney.  Wait 
for  an  answer.  Very  likely  she  will  come  back 
with  you." 

As  the  man  knuckled  his  forehead  and  turned 
to  go  she  noticed  a  newspaper  in  his  hand. 

"  What's  that?"  she  asked.  "'The  Drine 
Sentinel  '  ?  Do  you  read  that  rag?"  » 

"  There's  an  advertisement  in  it,  miss,  one 
of  the  boys  was  showing  me.  Maybe  you 
haven't  seen  it." 

'95 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

'And  he  handed  her  the  paper,  indicating  with 
his  finger  the  paragraph  referred  to.  She  took 
it,  and  read : 


IMPORTANT  SALE. 

On  Tuesday,  the  26th  January,  at  12  noon, 
Messrs.  Cleary  and  O'Shaughnessy  will  sell 
by  auction,  at  Mr.  Farrell's  yard,  the  cele- 
brated thoroughbred  horse  Liscarrick,  by  Fire- 
fly out  of  Magda,  formerly  owned  by  Robert 
Delaney,  Esq.,  of  Liscarrick.  Absolutely  no 
reserve.  The  sale  for  the  benefit  of  the 
creditors. 

It  was  Torney  McMaster's  advertisement, 
and  his  spite  had  not  omitted  to  deliver  the  sting 
that  lay  in  the  concluding  paragraph. 

"Tuesday,  the  26th,"  Kate  said,  glancing 
again  at  the  paper.  "Why  that's  to-morrow." 

"  It  is,  miss." 

"  I  did  not  know  they  were  selling  the  horse. 
,You  might  leave  me  this,  Nolan." 

"Certainly,  miss,"  and  the  groom  withdrew. 

"The  sale  for  the  benefit  of  the  creditors," 
read  Kate.  "  This  is  that  wretched  note.  Poor 
Gerald.  The  blow  really  falls  on  him.  He 
tried  to  save  his  nephew  and  could  not." 

And  she  re-entered  her  room  with  the  paper 
clutched  in  her  hand. 


106 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 
THE  DOVE  WITH  THE  OLIVE  BRANCH. 

*'  THIS  is  very  sweet  and  kind  of  you,  Molly ," 
said  Kate,  as  the  girl  entered  the  room.  "  It 
always  does  me  good  to  see  you,  but  you  never 
were  more  welcome." 

"  Of  course,  I'm  glad  to  come  to  you,  Kate 
dear,  and  I'd  like  to  do  you  good.  I'm  awfully 
sorry  to  hear  you've  been  so  seedy.  You  don't 
look  up  to  much,  that's  a  fact."  And  Molly 
regarded  her  attentively. 

Kate  returned  the  scrutiny,  and  fancied  she 
detected  the  traces  of  recent  tears  in  her  visitor's 
pretty  eyes. 

"  I  sent  for  you  to  cheer  me  up,  dear,  but  from 
the  looks  of  you,  you  need  cheering  yourself. 
Why,  what's  all  this  about?"  she  added,  as 
Molly  turned  away  to  hide  her  face.  "  You 
ought  to  be  as  happy  as  the  day  is  long,  and 
you've  been  crying — you're  crying  this  minute." 

"Oh,  Kate,"  the  girl  wailed,  no  longer  trying 
to  keep  the  tears  back,  "  Uncle  Gerald's  going 
away.  He's  going  away  before  my  wedding." 

Kate  was  thunderstruck.  She  had  never  con- 
templated this.  What  she  wished  for  or  hoped 
for  regarding  Gerald  she  could  not  have  told  her- 
self, but  the  blank  negation  of  absence,  the 
emptiness  of  the  world  which  she  felt  without 
him,  and  which  if  he  left  now,  she  realised 
would  never  be  filled  again,  appalled  her.  There 

'Q7 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

was  a  catch  in  her  breath  which  she  could  not 
master  as  she  exclaimed — 

"  Going  away!  Not  for  good  and  all.  Not 
back  to  California  1" 

11  Yes,"  sobbed  Molly.  He  came  home  just 
before  lunch,  and  told  me  he  could  not  possibly 
wait.  He  was  unexpectedly  called  back,  he  said, 
and  must  leave  at  once." 

"At  once?  That  does  not  mean  to-day,  does 
it?"  Kate  was  white  to  the  lips. 

"  Oh,  no.  He  will  wait  for  the  auction  to- 
morrow— they  have  seized  Liscarrick  for  Bob's 
debts,  you  know,  and  are  selling  him.  And 
there  is  some  other  business  he  has  to  settle. 
But  he  leaves  on  Thursday  and  will  sail  Satur- 
day." 

Thursday  I  And  this  is  Monday."  There 
was  time  still,  Kate  thought,  if  she  could  but 
bend  her  stubborn  pride  to  own  she  had  wronged 
him. 

Aye,  but  had  she  wronged  him  ?  The  struggle 
began  anew  between  her  heart  and  the  .habit  of 
distrust  that  years  had  engendered.  She  hardly 
listened  as  Molly  poured  out  her  grief  and  dis- 
appointment, yet  when  she  paused  Kate  realised 
that  she  had  understood  all  the  girl  had  been 
saying. 

"  I  had  so  set  my  heart  on  Uncle  Gerald  giving 
me  away.  It  meant  so  much  to  me.  Bob  won't 
be  the  same  thing.  Do  you  know  that,  next  to 
Jack,  he  and  you  are  the  dearest  of  all  to  me  in 
the  whole  world." 

"  He  and  you,"  the  conjunction  sounded 
pleasant  in  Kate's  ears.  Molly  went  on — 
1 08 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  have  done  to  him — 
or  rather,  I  do.  It  all  dates  from  that  day.  Oh, 
Kate,  this  is  no  time  for  politeness  and  conceal- 
ment of  anything  but  the  plain  truth.  I  know 
what  you  have  been  thinking  ever  since  I  told 
you  Uncle  Gerald  was  a  poor  man ;  but  you 
wrong  him.  Kate,  indeed,  you  wrong  him. 
Uncle  Gerald  never  thought  of  money.  He 
never  cared  for  it  in  his  whole  life.  He  might 
have  been  rich  if  he  was  like  other  men  and 
cared,  but  he  never  did.  I  have  watched  him, 
and  I  am  sure  he  loves  you  with  his  whole 
heart,  and  it's  proud  and  happy  you  ought  to  be 
to  think  you  have  won  the  love  of  a  man  like 
Uncle  Gerald — and,  oh,  Kate,  you  won't  let  him 
go  away." 

Molly  poured  out  her  appeal  in  a  torrent  of 
breathless  words,  and  Kate,  looking  down  into 
the  honest  depths  of  the  swimming  eyes,  mar- 
velled that  she  could  have  ever  doubted  the  girl's 
transparent  sincerity, — yet  she  had  doubted,  and 
suspicions,  unwarranted  in  one  case,  might  well 
be  unwarranted  in  all.  Was  she  wronging 
Gerald? 

"  I'm  afraid  it  doesn't  rest  with  me  to  keeper 
send  him,"  she  said.  "  He  was  here  to-day,  and 
I  spoke  very  cruelly,  very  bitterly — words  that 
no  man  could  forget,  and  God  forgive  me,  since 
I  have  seen  you  I  feel  that  perhaps  I  misjudged 
him." 

41  Will  you  tell  him  so?  I  don't  care  what  you 
said.  Uncle  Gerald  loves  you  so  that  if  you  but 
stretched  out  your  hand  he  would  come  from  the 
end  of  the  world  to  take  it." 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"Heaven  reward  you,  Molly,  and  it  will," 
cried  Kate.  "  Blessed  are  the  peace  makers." 

Molly  sought  her  uncle  the  moment  she 
arrived  at  Liscarrick,  but  he  had  driven  out  with 
Bob  soon  after  lunch,  and  they  had  not  yet 
returned.  So  she  unburdened  herself  to  Jack, 
from  whom  she  had  no  secrets. 

That  young  gentleman  was  not  hopeful.  He 
already  knew  something  of  his  cousin's  idiosyn- 
cracy,  and  suspected  it  was  deep-seated. 

"  Well,  if  that  is  all  Kate's  money  has  done 
for  her,"  he  remarked,  "I'm  glad  Grandpa 
didn't  leave  it  to  me." 

To  which  his  bride-elect  replied — 

"  It  isn't  all  it's  done.  Look  at  the  lovely 
trousseau  it  has  bought  for  me." 

"  That's  so,"  answered  Jack,  "  but  it  has  come 
jolly  near  spoiling  Kate's  own  trousseau  for  her, 
and  I  only  hope  it  won't  spoil  it  yet." 

Bob  returned  in  the  pony  trap  soon  after  dark, 
but  he  was  alone.  To  Molly's  eager  enquiries, 
he  replied  that  he  had  driven  his  uncle  in  to 
catch  the  2.50  train  for  Dublin,  and  that  he  had 
seen  him  off  in  it. 

Molly's  countenance  fell. 

"  He's — he's  not  gone  away  like  this  without 
saying  good-bye  or  anything?  " 

"  Not  he,"  replied  Bob.  "  He  had  a  wire,  and 
said  he  must  run  up  to  town.  But  he'll  be  back 
for  the  auction  to-morrow.  He  promised  he 
would.  Besides,  all  his  traps  are  here." 

So  Molly  did  not  see  her  uncle  that  night. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

SELLING  A  THOROUGHBRED. 

THE  auction  sale  the  next  day  was  a  very  tame 
affair.  The  hour  fixed  was  twelve,  and  Jack 
Whalen  and  Bob  were  present  to  see  the  last  of 
Liscarrick.  Gerald's  train  was  late,  and  he 
only  arrived  in  the  yard  a  few  minutes  before 
the  horse  was  led  out.  The  first  thing  that 
struck  him  was  the  sparse  attendance. 

"Why  there's  scarcely  anyone  here,"  he  re- 
marked after  he  had  greeted  the  others.  "  Bar 
the  casual  loafers  who  are  always  with  us,  the 
place  is  nearly  empty.  I  expected  to  see  dealers 
from  Cork  and  Dublin  and  all  over." 

"  Maybe  they  hadn't  heard  of  it,"  suggested 
Jack. 

"How  can  that  be?  It's  been  advertised,  I 
suppose?"  said  Bob. 

"If  it  has,  it  doesn't  seem  to  have  done  much 
good,  judging  by  the  attendance,"  Gerald 
observed,  glancing  round  the  score  or  so  of 
farmers  who  constituted,  the  assemblage,  and 
who  did  not  look,  as  Bob  observed,  "as  if  they 
could  raise  a  fiver  amongst  them." 

"  Then  it  seems  as  if  Bob's  horse  isn't  quite 
so  good  as  he  thought  it  was,"  remarked  Jack. 

"  There  isn't  a  better  horse  in  Ireland,  unless 
they've  bedevilled  him  since  they  took  him  from 
me,"  retorted  Bob,  hotly.  "  Here  he  comes. 
Look  at  him  yourself." 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

Certainly  it  was  a  very  handsome  colt  that 
was  led  up  and  down  the  yard  by  one  of  Farrell's 
stable  men.  He  moved  well  and  there  was  fire 
in  his  eye — with  an  occasional  backward  glance, 
showing  the  white,  which  did  not  augur  well  for 
his  temper. 

"  Vicious,  eh?"  asked  Jack. 

"  Not  he.  Only  upset  by  the  strangeness  of 
it  all,"  replied  Bob,  vindicating  his  favourite's 
character  to  the  last. 

41  There's  O'Hara,"  cried  Gerald  suddenly. 
"  There  near  the  door;  standing  with  McMaster. 
Don't  pretend  to  see  them." 

"The  d— d  curs,"  muttered  Bob.  "What 
have  they  come  here  for?  To  gloat,  I  suppose." 

"  Gentlemen,"  began  the  auctioneer,  "  I 
have  to  offer  you  an  unique  and  splendid  oppor- 
tunity— such  an  opportunity  as  has  not  been 
heard  of  in  this  district,  I'll  be  bound  to  say, 
since  it  was  a — ahem  ! — district.  You  see  the 
three  year  old  colt,  Liscarrick,  late  property  of 
a  well  known  sportsman —  Bob  felt  a  thrill 
of  pleasurable  pride  and  raised  his  head,  which 

had  of  late  been  carried  very  low "  The 

horse  is  in  the  stud  book — by  Fire  Fly  out  of 
Magda,  an  Oaks  winner,  to  be  sold  with  all 
his  engagements,  absolutely  without  reserve. 
Come,  gentlemen,  what  am  I  bid?" 

No  one  spoke.  One  old  farmer  went  over  to 
feel  Liscarrick 's  legs  and  was  received  with  a 
kick  which,  had  it  got  home,  would  have 
quenched  his  interest  in  horse  flesh  for  many  a 
day.  He  retired. 

"Come,    gentlemen,"    the  auctioneer   recom- 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

menced  impatiently.  "  Start  the  bidding. 
Run  him  down  the  yard,  Tom.  Let  the  gentle- 
men see  how  he  moves.  Ah,  there's  action. 
Look  at  him  well ;  he  can  stand  it.  Come,  come 
gentlemen,  say  something,  please.  The  horse 
must  be  sold." 

"  Ten  pounds,"  said  the  farmer  whose  brains 
Liscarrick  had  tried  to  explore.  This  offer  was 
received  by  the  bystanders  with  a  shout  of 
derisive  laughter. 

"Thank  you,  sir!"  The  auctioneer  acknow- 
ledged the  bid  with  excessive  politeness.  "  Any 
advance  on  ten  pounds?"  he  went  on  ironically. 

"Twenty,"  said  another  voice. 

"Thirty,"  cried  O'Hara. 

Bob,  when  the  bidding  started  at  this  absurd 
figure,  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  his 
friends  in  consternation. 

"  What  does  it  mean?"  he  gasped. 

"  A  mack  auction,  I'm  afraid,"  said  Jack. 
"  Gerald,  old  chap,  I'm  sorry  for  you.  I'm 
afraid  you've  been  had." 

"  There's  O'Hara,"  cried  Gerald,  recognis- 
ing the  voice  that  made  the  last  bid.  "  He's 
here  to  buy  the  colt  in.  It's  a  knock  out,  I'm 
afraid." 

"  I  can't  go  far,  but  he  shan't  have  it  for 
nothing,"  cried  Jack.  "  Forty." 

"  Fifty,"  from  O'Hara. 

"  Sixty!"  said  Jack. 

"Thank  you,  gentlemen,"  chirped  the 
auctioneer.  "Only  sixty  offered  for  the  son 
of  Fire  Fly  and  Magda.  Why  he's  worth 
thousands." 

203 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

O'Hara  had  by  this  time  recognised  his 
opponent.  He  squared  himself  and  opened  his 
chest. 

"  One  hundred!"  he  shouted. 

"That  lets  me  out,  I'm  afraid,"  whispered 
Jack,  and  dropped  into  the  background. 

"One  hundred  pounds,"  repeated  the 
auctioneer,  "only  one  hundred  pounds.  Why, 
gentlemen,  this  is  a  disgrace  to  the  county.  No 
advance  on  one  hundred  pounds.  Going, 
going " 

"  Seventeen  hundred  pounds,"  cried  a  voice 
from  the  back  of  the  yard,  just  in  time  to  arrest 
the  fall  of  the  poised  hammer. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  and  then  a 
ringing  cheer  went  up  from  the  men  in  the 
yard.  It  was  an  Irish  crowd,  and  dirty,  bare- 
foot, unkempt  as  most  of  them  were,  they  were 
sportsmen  to  a  man.  This  sensational  rise  in 
the  bidding  appealed  to  them. 

In  the  breathless  hush  that  followed  the 
unexpected  offer,  a  boy's  treble  piped  up  from 
somewhere : 

41  Begorrah,  I  didn't  know  there  was  that 
much  money  in  the  world." 

The  auctioneer  waited  till  the  rustle  of  excite- 
ment  had  subsided. 

"  That's  something  like,"  he  said.  "  Seven- 
teen hundred  bid — seventeen  hundred  offered. 
Come,  Mr.  O'Hara!" 

He  looked  over  at  the  Squireen,  but  the 
latter  shook  his  head. 

"  I   dunno  what  looney's  offering  that  money, 
but  I  know  when  I'm  bet.     I'd  like  to  see  him 
204 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

puttin'  up  the  notes,  though,  afore  I  give  in." 

"Seventeen  hundred — any  advance?  Going 
— going — gone!"  and  the  hammer  fell. 

"  Step  up,  sir,  if  you  please,  and  sign  your 
name,"  continued  the  auctioneer,  almost  in  the 
same  breath. 

Everyone  was  eager  to  see  the  adventurous 
bidder,  and  there  was  much  pushing  and  craning 
of  necks  as  Nolan  forced  his  way  to  the  front. 

"  Why,  it's  Miss  Fetherstone's  groom,"  cried 
the  auctioneer.  "  Are  you  bidding  for  your 
mistress,  my  man?" 

"  I  am  that,"  replied  Nolan.  "  D'ye  think 
is  she  good  for  the  money?" 

Gerald's  first  sensation  had  been  one  of 
exquisite  relief  as  he  realised  that  the  sale, 
begun  in  such  discouraging  fashion,  had  after 
all  brought  in  the  full  sum  for  which  he  had 
bound  himself.  But  the  extraordinary  course 
which  the  bidding  had  followed  puzzled  him, 
and  even  while  Bob  was  rubbing  his  hands  in 
ecstasy,  a  suspicion  of  the  truth  came  to  his 
uncle — a  suspicion  converted  into  a  certainty  as 
Nolan  stepped  forward  to  the  desk. 

He  recalled  the  terms  on  which  Kate  and  he 
parted;  indeed,  he  needed  not  to  recall  them — 
they  were  an  ever  present  torture  to  him.  How 
could  he  lie  under  an  obligation  to  this  proud, 
disdainful  woman,  who  believed  the  worst  of  him 
and  did  not  scruple  to  tell  him  so? 

But  he  was  powerless.  Miss  Fetherstone  was 
free  to  bid  for  a  horse  put  up  at  public  auction, 
and  the  price  she  paid  for  it  was  purely  her 
own  affair.  He  had  not  intended  to  see  her 

305 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

again  before  his  departure,  but  after  what  had 
happened  to-day,  he  felt  he  could  not  leave 
without  some  word  of  acknowledgement  or 
remonstrance,  or  both.  Most  likely  she  would 
not  receive  him.  Still,  he  owed  it  to  himself 
to  make  the  attempt. 

He  accosted  the  groom  as  he  turned  from  the 
desk  after  paying  the  usual  deposit. 

"  That  was  a  big  jump  you  gave  the  bidding, 
Nolan,"  he  said.  "  Less  than  that  would  have 
sickened  Mr.  O'Hara,  I  fancy." 

"  So  do  I,  sir,  but  I  followed  me  orders," 
Nolan  replied. 

"Were  your  orders  to  offer  seventeen 
hundred  right  off,  irrespective  of  what  bids 
preceded  yours?" 

"  They  were,  sir.  Miss  Fetherstone  towld 
me  never  to  mind  what  was  said,  but  to  bid 
;£i,7OO  for  the  horse,  and  to  be  sure  he  didn't 
go  for  a  penny  less.  Beg  pardon,  sir,  but 
Miss  Fetherstone  said  not  to  lose  a  minute 
comin'  back  an'  tellin'  her  how  things  went." 

And  Nolan  touched  his  hat  and  moved  away 
to  take  possession  of  his  purchase. 

Meanwhile,  O'Hara  had  been  exchanging  a 
few  rapid  words  with  McMaster. 

"She's  done  me  in  the  eye,"  the  Squireen 
said.  "They've  got  the  best  of  me." 

"  You'll  get  every  penny  of  your  money, 
though,"  observed  the  attorney  consolingly. 

"  I  will;  that's  something;  but  I  wanted  to 

get  even  wid  them  stuck  up   Delaneys.       And 

I'll  do  it  yet,"  Mat  added  with  an  oath.     "  Get 

ready  them  papers  an'  slap  at  the  widow  with 

206 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

a  breach  of  promise  action.  That'll  put  another 
complexion  o'n  it,  as  the  man  said  when  he 
peeled  the  potato." 

"  But  O'Hara,"  urged  McMaster,  "  it  will  do 
you  no  good.  You  won't  receive  a  penny. 
You'll  only " 

The  other  cut  him  short. 

"No  words.  Do  as  I  bid  you.  If  they're 
lookin'  for  someone  to  wipe  their  feet  on,  it's 
not  on  this  Mat  they'll  do  it,"  and  he  strode 
over  to  the  group  which  had  gathered  round 
the  thoroughbred. 

Nolan  had  just  taken  the  halter  in  his  hand 
and  was  in  the  act  of  leading  the  horse  from 
the  yard. 

"Tell  Miss  Fetherstone,  with  my  compli- 
ments," the  Squireen  said,  "that  she  can  have 
what  she's  bought  for  all  of  me.  I  can't  buck 
up  against  Whalen's  Distillery.  And  tell  her 
I  know  something  about  this  little  harse,  and 
I  wouldn't  advise  her  to  ride  him  on  the 
snaffle.  Away  with  ye  now,"  and  raising  his 
hand  he  bestowed  a  hearty  smack  with  his  open 
palm  on  Liscarrick's  quarter. 

The  horse  lashed  out  instantly.  One  of  the 
iron  shod  heels  caught  O'Hara  on  the  shoulder 
and  the  other  on  the  temple.  He  fell  where  he 
stood  as  if  he  had  been  poleaxed. 

Wrhen  they  raised  him  up  he  was  dead. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 
AND  so  THEY  WERE  MARRIED. 

GERALD  paced  up  and  down  the  Priory  draw- 
ing-room, a  prey  to  a  dozen  varying  emotions, 
which  swept  over  his  mind  without  sequence  or 
connection,  and  wholly  independent  of  his 
volition.  Miss  Fetherstone  had  sent  word  she 
would  be  down  directly,  but  the  minutes  passed 
and  she  did  not  appear. 

What  would  she  say  to  him,  and  what  should 
he  say  to  her?  He  felt  that  he  could  not 
endure  to  hear  again  such  cutting  words  as  she 
had  given  him  yesterday  in  this  very  room. 
Yet  then  he  had  faced  her  on  equal  terms.  To- 
day, he  lay  under  the  weight  of  an  obligation, 
for  he  could  not  blink  the  fact  that  Liscarrick 
had  been  bought  for  his  sake,  or,  if  not  for  his, 
for  the  sake  of  his  family  name  and  honour. 

Meanwhile,  Kate's  thoughts  were  as  tumult- 
uous as  Gerald's  own.  O'Hara's  fate  came 
as  a  great  shock  to  her.  She  felt,  illogically 
she  told  herself,  but  still  irresistibly,  that  if  she 
had  not  intervened  at  the  auction,  the 
man  would  be  alive  at  this  moment. 
If  she  had  not  bid  for  the  horse — 
and  here  her  reflections  changed!  She  could 
not  have  seen  Gerald  sacrificed — the  victim  of 
a  dirty  plot  in  a  dirty  town.  Nolan  had  told 
her  that  the  auction  was  a  mere  farce;  a  plan 
208 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

devised  to  get  possession  of  the  horse  and  still 
keep  her  friends  in  the  power  of  their  creditors. 
Well,  it  was  done,  and  she  had  acted  for  the 
best  according  to  her  lights. 

She  paused  a  moment  in  front  of  a  mirror  to 
assure  herself  that  her  hair  was  not  dis- 
arranged; then  she  entered  the  drawing- 
room. 

They  both  felt  the  awkwardness  of  the 
moment.  Kate  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  What  a  terrible  business  about  poor  Mr. 
O'Hara,"  she  said. 

"Yes,  terrible,  wasn't  it?"  he  replied.  "I 
suppose  you  heard  how  it  happened." 

"Yes,  Nolan  told  me.  Do  you  know  the 
last  words  the  poor  fellow  uttered  before  he  was 
struck  down  were  a  kind  of  message  to  me?" 

"  He  felt  sore  over  your  outbidding  him  for 
Liscarrick,"  said  Gerald.  "I,  on  the  contrary, 
have  every  reason  to  be  grateful.  Why  did 
you  buy  him — and  at  such  a  price?" 

"  Oh,  that  horse,"  she  exclaimed.  "  I  shall 
never  be  able  to  look  at  him.  He  is  a 
murderer." 

"  Why  did  you  buy  him?"  persisted  Gerald. 

"  Because,"  began  she,  and  stopped. 
"Hasn't  Molly  told  you  anything?" 

"  I  have  not  seen  Molly  since  lunch  time 
yesterday.  I  had  to  run  up  to  town  in  the  after- 
noon and  she  was  out  when  I  started." 

"Oh!"  said  Kate.  She  had  trusted  that 
Molly's  explanation  would  have  made  her  task 
of  retraction  easier — that  Gerald  would  have 
met  her  half  way.  Now  she  found  that  all 

209 
o 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

remained  for  herself  to  do,  and  his  manner 
seemed  cold  and  forbidding. 

"  Did  Molly  know  you  were  going  to  bid  for 
the  horse?"  he  asked. 

"  No.  I  said  nothing  at  all  to  her  about  it. 
I  wish  I  had  never  thought  of  it.  If  I  had  not 
interfered  that  wretched  man  would  have  been 
alive  now.  You  were  quite  right  when  you 
said  my  money  was  a  curse.  It  brings  ill-luck 
and  misery  wherever  it  goes ;  but  this  is  the 
first  time  it  has  brought  death." 

"  Oh,  Miss  Fetherstone,  what  a  dreadful  view 
to  take,"  said  Gerald,  speaking  as  lightly  as  he 
could.  "  O'Hara  brought  his  fate  on  himself. 
He  struck  the  horse  when  he  was  standing 
straight  in  the  line  of  the  heels,  and  he 
knew  the  brute  kicked.  And  if  you  could 
have  seen  Bob's  face  when  he  heard  Nolan's 
bid,  you  would  not  say  that  your  money  had 
brought  misery — to  him,  at  any  rate!" 

"  And  you?"  Kate  asked  swiftly.  "  I  con- 
fess I  was  not  much  thinking  of  Bob  in 
the  affair.  Did  I  bring  relief  or  misery 
to  you?" 

Gerald  looked  at  her  in  surprise.  Her  tone 
was  different.  Her  manner  was  different. 
What  could  have  happened  to  work  such  a 
change  in  twenty-four  hours?  He  still  kept 
guard  on  himself. 

"  My  feelings  were  very  mixed,"  he  answered. 
Of  course,  I  was  glad  to  see  that  wretched  note 
cleared  off.  It  had  been  harassing  me  so  long. 
By  the  way,  how  came  you  to  know  anything 
about  it,  and  above  all  the  exact  amount,  almost 

210 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

to  a  fraction,  that  was  needed  to  pay  debt  and 
costs?" 

She  was  embarrassed  and  remained  silent  a 
moment,  fingering  the  long  chain  she  wore  at 
her  neck. 

"  Oh,  one  has  nothing  to  do  but  gossip  about 
one's  neighbours  in  a  silly  little  place  like  this," 
she  said  at  last.  "  One  hears  everything." 

"  Molly  told  you?"  he  suggested. 

She  nodded. 

Gerald  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I  should  be  very  grateful 
to  you,  and  I  am.  But  it  isn't  pleasant  to  be 
under  so  large  a  pecuniary  obligation,  especially 
to  a  lady.  If  I  had  the  money  I  would  ask 
you  to  sell  me  the  horse  at  the  price  you  gave 
for  him.  Unfortunately  I  have  not,  and  while 
I  can  never  cancel  the  debt  of  gratitude  I  owe 
your  kindness,  I  must  ask  you  to  accept  some 
arrangement  that  will  make  it  less  onerous  for 
me." 

11  What  do  you  mean?"  she  asked.  The  tone 
he  was  taking  made  the  admission  she  con- 
templated very  hard. 

"I  am  returning  to  San  Francisco  almost 
immediately,"  he  explained.  "  I  am  going 
back  to  work.  I  earn  a  good  salary  and  I  can 
live  very  cheaply.  Will  you  do  what  McMaster, 
on  poor  O'Hara's  behalf,  had  agreed  to.  That 
is,  to  let  me  pay  you  back  by  instalments.  I 
could  do  it  in  eighteen  months  or  two  years — 
with  suitable  interest,  of  course.  I  think  I 
will  find  you  the  more  lenient  creditor,"  he 
finished  with  rather  a  pitiful  smile. 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

"So  you  refuse  to  let  me  help  you,  even  in 
this  trifle,"  said  Kate  sadly. 

"You  must  see  for  yourself  that  I  cannot." 

"And  we  used  to  be  such  friends!"  She 
paused  and  resumed  abruptly : 

"  Tell  me,  if  I  had  not  said — you  know — what 
I  said  to  you  yesterday  would  you  be  satisfied 
to  let  me  keep  the  horse  and  say  no  more  about 
it?" 

"  Ah,  but  the  words  have  been  said,"  replied 
he.  "  You  must  realize  things  are  on  a  different 
footing  to-day." 

"•Are  words  irrevocable,  then?"  she  Cried 
passionately. — "  Must  we  weigh  each  sentence 
we  utter  lest  it  come  back  to  crush  us?  Do 
you  remember  a  talk  we  had — it  was  the  day  I 
ost  my  temper  with  Nolan  and  dismissed  him. 
I  said :  '  I  am  always  saying  something  I  want 
lo  take  back  afterwards,'  and  you  said  '  It  is  a 
woman's  privilege.'  You  spoke  quite  lightly 
and  pleasantly,  for  it  was  not  your  affair;  it 
did  not  touch  you.  But  now  that  the  case 
comes  home  to  yourself,  there  is  no  smile  or 
prettily  turned  compliment;  no  allowance  for  a 
woman's  hasty  temper;  'The  words  have  been 
said  ' — I  quote  yourself,  and  they  must  stand 
irrevocable  though  my  heart  is  breaking." 

A  flood  of  tears  choked  her  utterance.  She 
hid  Tier  face  on  the  arm  of  the  sofa,  and  shook 
in  a  very  paroxysm  of  unrestrained  grief. 

Gerald  was  on  his  feet  in  a  moment.  He 
approached  her;  then  he  paused,  won- 
dering. He  dropped  on  his  knees  beside 
her  and  strove  to  take  her  hand,  but  she 


WHERE  THE  SHAMROCK  GROWS 

shook    it   free    and    covered    her    face    again. 

"  Go  away,  go  away,"  she  sobbed.  "  Don't 
mind  me;  I  don't  know  what  I  am  saying,  and 
I  had  better  take  care,"  she  added  with  an 
hysterical  laugh,  "for  words  are  irrevocable." 

"  They  are  not,"  whispered  he  :  "  Everything 
may  be  changed  if  the  heart  remains  changeless. 
Kate — listen  to  me,  Kate.  If  you  did  not  mean 
what  you  said  yesterday — if  it  was  only  temper 
that  spoke  and  not  you — I  value  your  words  as 
nothing.  I  kneel  at  your  feet,  as  I  have  been 
longing  to  kneel  this  many  a  day,  and  ask  the 
sweetest  woman  in  the  world  to  give  me  herself 
— just  herself,  the  most  precious  thing  she  has." 

Kate  had  raised  her  head,  and  the  sunshine 
of  hope  and  happiness  was  already  drying  her 
tears. 

"  Are  you  sure  you  love  me?"  she  whispered. 

"  Darling,  I  think  I  loved  you  the  first  time 
I  saw  you, — you  remember  Red  Rover's  runa- 
way— and  it  has  gone  on  ever  since.  It  will 
never  change." 

"Gerald,  dear,  I  am  very  happy,"  and  as  he 
bent  his  lips  to  hers  for  that  first  kiss,  Kate 
felt  that  she  had  won  a  heart  that  loved  her  for 
her  own  sake. 


THE    END 


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